


Smoldering

by Tagsit



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Out of Character, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 178,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tagsit/pseuds/Tagsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Justin has grown up in a very different household than seen in canon.  He is living on the streets when he is found by the Liberty Diner gang and is rescued -  malnourished, exhausted and ill - and taken home by Brian.  Can Justin be brought out of this hell he's been resigned to by his hateful father?  Can Brian find the one thing that will make Justin whole again? </p><p>This story is based on a prior fic - 'Smolder' - by LovelessSouls.  All credit for the haunting story premise goes to the original author, as well as my thanks for letting me repost the first two chapters of that story.</p><p>***** STORY IS NOW COMPLETE! ENJOY! *****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decompose.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Smolder](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/86186) by LovelessSouls. 



> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> If any of you read the short fic, 'Smolder', by LovelessSouls, you might have been as captivated as I was by the story. I loved the premise and the author's characterizations, especially the first two chapters. I really thought the story had a lot of potential. I love the way LovelessSouls writes these characters but I wanted more of it. I was haunted by this story - I thought about it endlessly and finally I decided I had to continue writing it in my own way. So, with the permission of the author, I am reprinting the first two chapters of this fic and then continuing it on after that point.
> 
> This is a MUCH darker fic than most anything else I've written. I hope you like it. I hope I can write it in a way that will make LovelessSouls proud. I hope you don't all die from the angst of it all before I can get to the inevitable happy ending. I hope that eventually, we can find world peace and everyone will live happily ever after. Ahhh! Hope! TAG

Chapter 1 - Reposted by permission of the author, LovelessSouls. 

Smoldering  
by Tagsit

Based on the story 'Smolder' by LovelessSouls

 

Chapter 1 - Decompose.

 

Decompose: Decay into nothingness.

 

The dim lighting due to the darkened clouds in the sky brought forth a depressing atmosphere for many of the inhabitants of Pittsburg on what may have been its coldest day on record. The cold wind pierced even the warmest of jackets of those few brave souls who wandered the streets that afternoon. One lone figure seemed adverse to the cold effects as the wind picked up speed and began a heavy onslaught. He wore naught but a thin light jacket, jeans that looked a size or two too big and he had shoes riddled with holes. To anyone whom may have gotten close enough to see, his complexion was deathly pale and bottom lip had split from the cold. His whole body shook as he carried on, but his face showed no indication of effects the cold brought on.

His mind began to wander, as it often did, and he thought of what colors he would use for a painting of such a day like this, or if the children from his drawings last summer would return this summer. Things that at one time, what now seemed many lifetimes ago, would have brought him joy, but now instead acted as a simple passing of time.

As time slowly ticked by and the day made its way towards end the figure found shelter under a bridge in a park he frequented often. Pushing up as close to the wall as he could the figure folded into himself not for warmth, but for protection from any who might stumble upon him. He had learned that valuable lesson some time before and it was one he had never forgotten. With but a sigh passing his lips the figure stared out into the night waiting…

~~*~~

I cannot remember when exactly my ability to feel stopped. I am not even quite sure how long it has been since I last saw the place I called home. Home, it is one of those words people tend to use loosely, like the words ‘love’ or ‘happy’. Home is something, just a word, people have stereotyped as a pleasant place to be, but pleasant was never a word that came to mind in my memory of the place. Home is a place for families, but the people in my ‘home’ surely could not of been considered my family. Family would imply ‘happy’ when paired together with the word ‘home’. It is then assumed that the ‘family’ in the ‘home’ are ‘happy’ and thus ‘love’ each other and that leaves no reason for people, outsiders, to see anything more or look any deeper at the ‘family’.

I then, lived in a house, for house is a word that does not hold the same connotation as home. In comparison the word house seems colder, less personal. I lived with people, not family, because while blood may have genetically related use to one another we were not happy and did not love one another. I lived in a house with people. To my knowledge I have never known happy or family and I have never had a home, but if you were to ask the neighbors of that house they would have told you otherwise.

Time has become irrelevant; I have long since stopped seeking out warmth, in any sense of the word. To say I have stopped feeling completely would not be complete truth. I remember, what seems like ages ago now, when I had first found myself on the streets, that I constantly searched out warmth. Warmth from the cold, warmth of other people. When I had lived in the house, at the very least the people were familiar and while we did not get along, and most of the time I wished nothing more to be as far away from them as possible, I could rely on the fact that they were there and did not seem to be going anywhere. I learned quickly, the hard way, there were no such assurances here. The life I have become accustomed to is not pretty. In fact, even now, after however much time may have passed, there is still a part of me that is ashamed of who I am and what I have become, though recently I have noticed that even that feeling of shame has begun to fade. 

I find that I spend most of my days wondering different areas of the city. Through experience I have learned which areas are safer than others, although safe is a relative term. In the winter I do not travel far from Liberty Ave. though, weather can have a drastic affect on people’s behavior. At nights I sell my body and after I sleep in one of my regular spots if I am even able to sleep that night at all. The actual act of sex for money is just that, all it is is a job. A job that gives me the ability to make it through life. The way I look at it is that I keep regular hours, rates and have never let another man fuck me raw. I even make sure I get tested regularly, though I have no real explanation for why I try to keep myself safe or why I even still care, it just feels like something important, like it has been ingrained in my head over and over.

~~*~~

It is a day like any other. The sun has come back out, but judging from how others have dressed the temperature must not be much warmer than before. The sun’s return, though, has brought back the normal hustle and bustle of the day. I woke from under the bridge to a vehicle’s obnoxious horn blaring into the pre-dawn filled minutes of yet another morning. By my best estimations I slept for a little over two and a half hours. The edginess of being awoken so abruptly has yet to leave me. In the hours I have been awake I have found myself, on several different occasions, unconsciously pressing my hands to my pockets and other various parts of my body, checking that I still have what few possessions I have managed to keep with me.

I was paid way more than usual two nights ago. The trick was nervous, too nervous, and came from my barely fondling his balls, through his pants I might add. He insisted on giving me a blow job, but between his jittery movements and mumbling on about his wife and kids at home it felt like forever before I finally came. His droning on and on about his family was more likely to make me sick than anything else, so, while not safe in this line of work, I tuned him out. In the end everything seemed to have worked out, I made three-hundred, up front of course, and he got his hour as a homo before he returned home to his picket fenced homo hating suburbia. I typically don’t take but one or two clients every few nights or so and with what this particular trick had been willing to fork over I could be set for a while, granted it is not stolen off me.

Thus bringing me back to my current predicament; separated and located on several different places on my body was nearly all of the money I had received from the other night, I had hardly used any of it yesterday. It made me uneasy to have so much on me and I had become hyperaware of the few people around me in the park. I often come to the park in the early morning when I am staying near Liberty Ave. I like being able to gaze up at the stars some nights and the colors of dawn and dusk are intriguing even still. Before, in my other life I would have used all the different hues I saw to express myself in a way the others in the house never understood. Glancing up I notice the sun has started to rise over the tops of building in the distance and slowly I begin my trek towards the infamous street.

In the time I have been living on the streets I have not stepped foot into Liberty Diner. I have though, back when I first started out on the streets, rummaged through it’s dumpsters. An unfortunate side effect of growing up WASP is that I have not been able to go into establishments unless dire necessity dictates my doing so. The longer I gaze at the colorful building the more I feel hunger clawing its way into the forefront of my mind. I reluctantly begin to pull myself away from the bright and lively colored building as I mull over my appearance and glance up to study my reflection as I pass a store’s large window. My hair has grown long; its originally blonde color has now been dulled, though I suspect it is in slightly better condition considering I managed about a ten minute cold shower maybe 5 or so days ago. My light jacket is worn down and has a small tear in the area of the right wrist and its grey color black in a few spots. What little I can see of my shirt, from the zipper opening of the jacket, is the relatively the same blue color it was when I purchased it from a little second hand shop a few weeks back. My gaze begins to travel back upwards, only allowing a quick glance at my ill fitting jeans and torn shoes. Finally, my gaze rests on my face and I unconsciously bring a hand up to rub at a spot of dirt on my cheek. My complexion has taken on a deathly pale look, the bags under my eyes only add to my death warmed over appearance.

It is my eyes that haunt me the most though. While staring intently into their now almost grey color, I feel but for a fleeting second, a stab of pain. Pain from anger, pain from anguish, pain from agonized and pristine defeat, but most of all pain from wanting to be loved. As soon as the crippling feeling had come forth, it was gone and I found myself turning to walk away. I want to run, escape, and get away from it all. Momentarily I am frozen in place and that’s when a voice breaks through my barrier of panic, standing out above all the other early morning noises. I feel control of my body returning to me and I begin to run away wanting far away from this place and the commotion around. My shoes decide at that moment to give out and I am soon tumbling to the ground. The soft thud and momentary pain from my body making contact with concrete brings back the panic to escape, but I realize it is too late, because the voice is drawing ever closer.

~~*~~

He told me his name is Emmett and despite how many time I have tried to dissuade him from his tirade of apologies, I honestly feared it may have never ended. After helping me get back on my feet the tirade began and nearly fifteen minutes later it was still continuing at a fairly regular rate. Emmett had brought my inside the store he worked at and whose window I had found myself staring intently into while studying myself. Torso, being the name of the store, was filled with a wide variety of clothing in many different colors and designs. I must admit the glitter and sparkle of the store unnerved me some. Not but a minute after the thought had crossed my mind Emmett seemed to have noticed my attire and instantly began flitting around the store grabbing articles here and there before thrusting half of a fairly large pile into my own arms and guiding me back into a changing room.

This brings me to now, stripping off my clothes to try on new ones, showing them to Emmett and allowing him to gush over his choices. I have begun to noticeably tire though, his personality is quite draining, along with the taking on and off of clothes. My eyes have become heavy and my limbs are beginning to feel as though they are filled with lead. Trying as quickly as possible to get my own clothes back on I stumble as my legs give out and for a second feel but a fleeting moment of pain.

~~*~~  
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

Rubbing my forehead gently in an attempt to abate the oncoming headache I sigh heavily and get out of my car as I begin my walk into the hospital to find Theodore and Emmett. It would seem that while working today one of Emmett’s customers had passed out on him while trying on some clothes. Emmett, blaming himself for God knows why, had managed to convince the paramedics into a ride to the hospital with said stranger. Of course, today would be the day that Theodore’s car is in the shop and Cynthia is home with the flu, leaving me with the responsibility of getting Theodore to the hospital and to Emmett’s rescue. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath before passing through the doors that open into the emergency room. Spotting Theodore comforting Emmett in one of the far corners I make my way there and lean against the wall while waiting until Theodore gives the signal that we can leave. I close my eyes briefly and block out the noise from the general hustle and bustle of the E.R. Feeling a tap on my shoulder I turn and look at Theodore who then points at a doctor talking to Emmett a few paces away. Emmett is on the verge of spilling more tears as he turns and looks at me for help and I sigh as I go over to find out what is wrong.

It appears that hospital was more worried about getting paid than caring for some gay street kid, or at least that’s the condensed version of the story the doctor gave me. Which only led to fueling my frustration over this situation to anger, I assured the doctor I would pay and followed a nurse to quickly fill out some paper work over the matter. Upon returning I was latched on to by Emmett before he began to pull me down the hall and through a door in which I nearly fell from the abruptness of my own stop. My eyes became transfixed on a pale blonde sleeping on a hospital bed in the middle of the room. I immediately become confused by my actions, seeing as the kid was not even close to being my type, but of one thing I am sure, the little drama princess resting in the sterile hospital was wrapping us all around his little finger, without even being awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter reposted as written by LovelessSouls and not edited by Tagsit.


	2. Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 - Reposted with permission of author, LovelessSouls.

Chapter 2 - Waste.

 

Waste: to destroy or consume gradually; wear away

 

My eyelids feel heavy and I find are difficult to open. I can feel slight warmth on the left side of my body. I struggle to fight off the feeling of fatigue and to become more alert. I clench my hands at my sides and suppress a whimper when I pick up my arm to bring my right hand to my face. Gently rubbing my eyes I begin to adjust to the disturbing amount of sunlight flooding into the sterile room. A groan escapes my lips as I come to the realization that I must be in a hospital. While my eyes finish adjusting to the light a headache begins to pound away at my skull as bits and pieces of things I must of heard while I was out of it comes floating to the surface.

 

“Hang in there sweetie, you’ll be just fine soon…just hang on…” Came the voice I distinctly familiarize with the sales clerk from the store I was in, Emmett, the one who wouldn’t stop apologizing for spooking me. I can make out other sounds, the blaring of a siren and clashing of metal against concrete. Worried rushed tones then followed by loud belligerent ones. There are several other repeating voices I do not recognize as it all begins to blend together. I press my right hand roughly against my forehead willing it all away when one voice begins to stand out above the rest of the clatter.

 

“Honeycutt be more careful…Just let him sleep, I’m sure he would appreciate it if you would give him his arm back…Forget this I’m leaving…”

 

Then silence.

 

A silence more deafening than all the noises before combined. It was unsettling and almost made me wish for the chaos of the noise back. Whimpers pass my lips and the struggle for control becomes a losing one. With as rapt movement I can manage I discard the sheets from the bed and while leaning heavily against my right arm I swing my legs off the bed and proceed to slip off the side and collapse on the floor.

 

I knew I hadn’t been on the floor for more than a few minutes, logically, but my perception of time was much slower than average. Nausea settled heavily in my stomach and the brief relief from the pounding headache was over. I cannot honestly remember a time ever feeling this helpless and my mind screamed for escape. My mind was in absolute turmoil as I began to attempt to stand. On shaky legs I make my way to the door and grip the handle tightly whilst pulling it open, peeking my head out and checking the down the left and right of the hall. I notice that down on the left side there sits a nurse’s station, unoccupied. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly I start making my way down the hall towards the right. Keeping as close to the wall as possible I having notice a sign indicating a staircase. Not far from the end of the hall another broke off to my left. I hear a faint ding of the elevator, but paid it no attention, making my way past and see the door to the stairwell growing near. I steady myself, taking another deep breath, before reaching out for the door’s handle. My hand nearly makes it when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder and everything I had tuned out came rushing back into my ears. My body tenses at the touch and I begin to tremble as I force my body to turn and come face to face with the owner of the voice from before.

 

~~*~~ 

Brian’s POV 

~~*~~

 

Sleep evaded me last night; my thoughts kept drifting back to Emmett’s blonde street kid. The hospital had located an old school I.D., from two years ago, naming the kid Justin Taylor at an approximate age of 18-20 years old. His clothes were well worn and after having searched them for any other personal effects I had asked the hospital staff to put them into a bag for the kid to decide what to do with them later. Using the sizes indicated on the clothes and adjusting them some by the rough judging of his size I made a call for a new set of clothes to be delivered to his room by this morning.

 

I left last night when I couldn’t stand Emmett’s fawning over the kid any longer. I almost felt for the kid knowing without a doubt that Debbie will have heard of Emmett’s ordeal and will be rushing to the kid’s side sometime this morning to fawn like Emmett had.

 

I find myself once again parked in the Hospital’s parking lot and I slowly exit the Corvette and walk in the building towards the elevator that I know will bring my closest to the kid’s room. Stepping off the elevator I bring my gaze up mentally preparing myself for walking into the kid’s room when a flash of blonde catches my eye as it disappears around the corner and down the hallway. Picking up my pace I round the corner just in time to see the kid, Justin, taking a steadying breath and reaching out for the door handle to the stairs. Moving more quickly than even I had realized I grabbed for his shoulder and bite out his name. Feeling him tense under my hand I gather my patience and wait as his fear filled eyes turn towards me.

 

“Justin,” I state with as much calm as I can muster. “Where are you going?”

 

While I briefly reflect on the seeming stupidity of the question I just uttered Justin began to withdraw into himself having only a brief second of recognition of me. Turning, I lead him back towards his room, my hand never leaving his shoulder. A quick glance at the empty nurse’s station brings hints of anger to my mind, but I push it aside to deal with later, the quivering boy before me was of more importance at the moment. I guide him through the doorway and towards his plain and sterile looking bed. Gently I release him from my grasp and watch as the kid walks over and climbs back into his bed, still in a daze like state. Pulling over the sheets till all but his head was covered by him then leaning back and staring wild eyed at the ceiling.

 

Sighing, I pull the door silently shut behind me and walk over to the room’s solitary window. I begin working on collecting my thoughts, I know I must keep myself as calm as possible around Justin. Wait. For what reason exactly do I care? With a gentle shake of my head I take what I thought was only a few moments to collect and calm myself, I turn to the clock and see that nearly thirty-five minutes have passed. Bringing my head down towards the kid’s bed his eyes ensnare my own. I know I should look away, but I cannot. The color of his eyes seems dulled, subdued, like the life in them had left long ago. They hold within them pain that rivaled any I had seen before, even in my own all those years ago. I continue to keep his gaze until I notice the slow tensing of his body. He blinks, breaking the connection, and I gradually make my way over to his bed. Standing beside him I make one last glance over, assuring myself that he is fine, physically at least. 

 

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to run again, I’m sure Auntie Em will be here soon to look after you, most likely along with one or two others.” I utter leaving the room.

 

~~*~~ 

Justin’s POV 

~~*~~

 

A distinct feeling of doom had settled over me when I turned around and was able to put a face to the ever haunting voice. He is beyond description in physical appearance, making him seem god like, but there is undoubtedly more there. When our eyes met I looked past the captivating hazel of his eyes and found way more behind them. At first he seemed almost completely my opposite, but there were things that he had learned to hide well, just around the edges. The complexity admittedly scares me quite a deal and I felt the tension return to my body preparing for escape. I feel my eyes flutter close and back open again, breaking our connection. He moves towards my bed, stopping when he reaches its side. He informs me whom I assume is Emmett will be arriving sometime soon and there is a probability he may bring others. Oh and not to attempt escape again. Then he leaves and after hearing the door click shut I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

 

It was gone now, leaving with him. My chest constricts with unimaginable pain and I roll to my side, back now facing the door, upset by my abandonment. I wanted it back; though to be honest I am not even sure it has a name or if I could adequately describe it. I just know I hurt when it left, he took it with him and I don’t know his name. What if he doesn’t come back?

 

~~*~~

 

A nurse came in to check on me about nine and brought with her some clothes that had been delivered for me to leave in tomorrow. I am definitely ready to leave here, but I’m worried about how I am going to pay for all of this. The nurse informed me I was brought in after collapsing in a store. I am being treated for exhaustion, malnutrition, and the early stages of a cold. Tomorrow I will be released into the care of my friends and will need to be carefully watched for a week or so to make sure I am eating and sleeping properly and keeping up with the meds they are giving me for the cold, in hopes of nipping it in the bud before it progresses any farther.

 

I have spent the last three hours trying to figure out who might these ‘friends’ be when a loud and boisterous Emmett enters my room followed by a louder and more exuberant woman. 

 

“Good afternoon, baby!” He exclaims rushing to my bed side and taking hold of my hand. “You don’t know how relieved I am to see your lovely eyes staring back at me again.”

 

He sighs, pats my hand and moves two chairs, one to each side of the bed. Emmett then gesture to the woman arranging flowers in a vase on my night stand to have a seat in one of the chairs around my bed. With each of them sitting the woman begins speaking to the both of us, I can’t make out what they are saying though. My body is once again caught in fears embrace. The two of them have surrounded me, cornered me to this one solitary spot on the bed. Have I always been this afraid of people? I can’t recall having ever having a particular problem like this being around tricks. A familiar unsettling feeling washes over me and I begin to feel exhausted. I close my eyes in hopes of feigning sleep well enough that my two visitors will leave. Thankfully, after a bit of time passes and Emmett has been assured by the woman that I am merely sleeping they both leave and I give into the exhaustion.

 

~~*~~ 

Brian’s POV 

~~*~~

 

I stopped back in again a little after one to check up on the kid, but he was sleeping. I noticed the chairs in his room had been moved and inquired about it at the nurses’ station when I went over to ask if his clothes had been delivered. I had decided to let my anger from earlier go at their lack of paying attention. Life would move along a lot smoother without having a handful of potentially pissed off nurses’, the kid was leaving tomorrow anyway. My inquiry brought me two important answers. Yes, his clothing I had ordered had arrived and had been stored under his bed for safe keeping, and Emmett and Deb had been by. When leaving they had informed a nurse that the kid had fallen asleep about thirty minutes into their visit and that he hadn’t spoken the entire visit. I found myself at home not long after that, a definite advantage of being the boss of your own company. It wasn’t like I was having a particularly productive day at any rate.

 

I’m about to meet the boys for another wonderful evening at Woody’s followed by a sexually appetizing night at Babylon. Normally the excitement of the oncoming hunt at Babylon would have sufficed me, but tonight my thoughts seem to be jumbled.

 

~~*~~

 

I slept better last night, but still not quite back to the restful peace I have become accustomed to passing out with exhaustion each night. I plan on spending a few hours in the office before going to pick up the kid in the afternoon. I also want to clear my calendar for the next few days, with the exception of two campaigns. One I need to present and the other I need to brainstorm. Arriving at Kinnetic, I filled Cynthia in on what I wanted done in my absence and what had gone on in hers. 

 

After feeling everything had been taken care of and planned out for the next few days I noticed that it was nearly noon. I set the notes I needed for the new campaign in the passenger seat of my Jeep. I opted to take the Jeep over the Corvette today not wanting to worry about getting the kid and all of his stuff to fit, plus the Jeep is safer in the snow. I park my Jeep as close to the entrance of the hospital as I can and feel relieved that this is the last time I will need to park here for what I hope is never, or at least a long long while. Walking out of the familiar elevator and down the hall to the kid’s room I make quick notice that there are nurses at the nurses’ station when I hear Debbie’s voice carrying out of the kid’s room. I quicken my pace and open the door to see Debbie holding one of Justin’s arms in what I assume is an attempt to get him out of his bed.

 

“C’mon Sunshine, we need to get you dressed so I can get you home and all settled before my shift.” Debbie explains pulling lightly on Justin’s arm. I could tell he was terrified and I wanted nothing more than to gather him in my arms and protect him, even if it was from Deb.

 

“Debbie release him your scaring him.” I command in the calmest voice I can manage. I walk over to the bed catching Justin’s gaze and holding it. Not even turning to see who had entered the room behind me.

 

“Brian, what do you mean? I need to get Sunshine back to the house. I have a shift this evening.”

 

“I don’t think you understand Deb, but since I have been paying for Sunshine’s stay I will be the one taking him home for his further recovery.” I answer working my way between her and Justin, taking her hand from his arm and gently rubbing it.

 

“Brian you couldn’t possib…”

 

“Debbie I think Brian should take Sunshine home. Come on, let’s leave the two alone so Brian can get everything in order and they can leave.” I recognize as Emmett’s voice interrupting.

 

“Well Sunshine’s an adult, let’s let him choose.” Debbie huffs.

 

I sigh and nod at Justin still holding his gaze, his eyes widen and he looks past me for a moment before looking back at me. “I want to go with him.” He whispers bringing a hand up to his nose and sniffling. I hear the two leave knowing they heard Justin loud and clear and give him a quick smile before getting up and gathering his new clothes from under his bed.

 

“You go and get changed into these, while I collect the rest of your stuff. Has the doctor already been in to see you?”

 

He nods, moves off his bed and heads into the restroom reappearing about ten minutes later. I take quick note that the jeans are a bit big on him, but the rest seems to fit just right.

 

“Justin, do you want to take these flowers with us?” He shakes his head vigorously in response and I walk over to him holding out my hand. He takes it, giving me a thankful smile and we head out of his room. As we pass the nurses’ station I make sure that he has indeed been discharged and we head out into the cold making our way as quickly and safely to the Jeep as possible.

 

Once on the road he begins going through his things pulling out what I would assume is several wads of cash from different articles of his old clothing. He seems to find it all or at least doesn’t show his disappointment if any of it is missing. The ride gives me time to stop and wander for the first time today if I am doing the right thing or what I am even doing to begin with. I could have simply allowed him to go with Debbie. I know he would have been well taken care of and I wasn’t worried about the money. Parking the Jeep I move to get out of the vehicle and walk around to the passenger’s side and am surprised to find not only find him already out of the vehicle but holding all of his things and holding out his hand filled with money, head down.

 

I reach up and rub the bridge of my nose and then reach my hand out towards his, but instead of taking the money I lightly grab his wrist and pulling him into the building with me.

 

"Save your money.” Is all I say on the subject and he simply stuffs it into a pocket on his jacket.

 

I pull out my keys as the lift reaches the top floor and unlock the door to loft. I usher him inside and pull the door shut the unmistakable metal clang ensuring our finally being alone and home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter reposted as written by LovelessSouls. Not edited by TAG.


	3. Refuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This is the first chapter that I've written beyond what was originally done by LovelessSouls. I have occasionally quoted directly from the original story, but the essence of the story is mine from here on out. Again, this is a VERY DARK FIC! Be warned accordingly. Justin is not happy in this AU - he's been very abused and it will be up to Brian to try to help him out of the dark place that Craig has left him. Hope you enjoy this. TAG

Chapter 3 - Refuge. by Tagsit

 

Refuge: A place of shelter, protection or safety.

Previously: “I pull out my keys as the lift reaches the top floor and unlock the door to the loft. I usher him inside and pull the door shut - the unmistakable metal clang ensuring our finally being alone and home.”

 

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

The boy just stands there looking around him as if he's in some alien spaceship after having been forcibly abducted. It's like he's been living on the streets for so long that he doesn't remember what the inside of a building looks like or what to do once he's there. I tentatively stretch out one hand to touch him on the arm to guide him further inside, but my touch causes him to flinch violently so I drop my hand to my side.

"Justin," I speak to him calmly and in a hushed voice - the way you would speak to a frightened animal. "This is my loft. You're going to stay here with me tonight. Okay?"

He looks into my eyes, but there is still so little comprehension visible there that I'm not sure he's even heard me. I'm going to have to take charge a little more forcefully, I decide.

"Why don't you start with a shower? Follow me and I'll show you the bathroom," I say as I take three steps towards the bedroom, beckoning towards him with my hand. 

I'm relieved to see that he's following me, always keeping at least ten feet between us. I walk up the three steps to the bedroom and turn to the left into the bath. Unfortunately, the confined space will no longer allow Justin to maintain his distance, so he halts outside the room, staring with a distressed look on his pale countenance. I'm going to have to get a bit more forceful if we're going to get anything done here today.

"Justin. Come here, now," I direct, pointing to the tile floor right beside me.

The shy blond shuffles into the room obediently, his gaze directed downward, and stands where I've indicated. He will not look me in the eyes, though.

"I want you to take a shower now, and don't forget to wash your hair. When you're done, put your dirty clothes and the towel in the hamper over there and put on these clean clothes," I order, handing him the bag of clothing which we brought from the hospital. "Then, once you're dressed, come back out to the kitchen and we'll get some food. Do you understand, Justin?"

All I get is a small nod. He doesn't actually make a move towards the shower, though, and he's still avoiding looking at me directly. I figure that I'll give him some space and see what happens, so I smile at him reassuringly and back out the door, closing it after me. I hear the water in the shower turning on almost immediately, so I head out to the kitchen to look through my pile of take out menus and decide what we'll have for dinner.  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

It's way too clean here - that's my first thought as I step through the door of his place. I'm afraid to go in because I don't want to get anything dirty. They kinda cleaned me up back at the hospital, I guess, but I still don't feel clean enough to be in a beautiful place like this. So I just stand still by the door, not knowing what to do.

That's when He touches my arm and it feels like a jolt of electricity zaps through me. I don't mean to jump the way I do, it's just that, on the streets, except when you're deliberately selling yourself for the cash, nobody ever touches you - at least not without the intent to do something bad to you - so it surprises me when He touches me like that. It didn't feel bad though - I kinda didn't mind Him touching me and I wish I hadn't flinched like that because it made Him pull his hand away. 

That's when He tells me that I'm going to be staying here with Him tonight. He says my name so softly - I've never heard anyone say my name like that and it makes this small prickling of pain start up in my gut. I get to stay HERE, with HIM? This just makes no sense. This can't be right. I mean it was kind of Him and Emmett and that lady to take me to the hospital when I passed out and all, but why would He bring me here to stay with him? I don't understand at all. He doesn't act like a normal John at all.

When He adds that I get to take a shower, I almost moan aloud with the anticipation. I don't even remember when the last time I had a real shower was. I don't think the occasional quick, cold shower at the local mens’ shelter, where I sometimes stay when it’s just too bitterly cold out even for me, counts.

I know He must be thinking I'm incredibly stupid because He's talking to me like He would to a child. It's not that I'm an idiot. I just can't believe that this is happening. I really do understand His words, I just can't believe that these nice things He's saying are directed at me.

Finally, I sense He's losing his temper or something since His voice gets louder and more demanding. He orders me to His side. I'm ashamed that I'm acting like this - like a complete idiot or something - I can't even look at Him I'm so embarrassed. 

I feel even worse when He starts to explain to me again that I should shower, wash my hair and dress in clean clothes - He must think I'm mentally impaired or something. Shit. I don't want Him to get that impression of me - I just can't quite get ahold of my reeling brain yet - nice things like this don't happen to people like me and it's really throwing me. 

Finally He leaves and I find that without Him here to distract me, I can actually function. I quickly pull off my clothes and head for the shower stall. Having already turned on the water and let it warm, when I step under the spray a cross between a sigh and a moan passes my lips. The water feels amazing on my skin and I am so grateful to be able to take a hot shower again. Using His soap, I clean every bit of my body. I love the scent of His soap - 'sandalwood' - the name of the perfume comes to my mind from somewhere in my distant past. Then I wash my hair three times and use the conditioner I find as well. It feels so luxurious that I'm reluctant to ever get out. But, I don't want to anger my Host either, so I eventually turn the water off, dress and head back out to the main room where He's waiting for me.

~~*~~   
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

The boy sure does clean up well, I have to give him that. He still looks almost deathly pale, when he finally decides to venture back out of the bathroom, but the grey tinge to his skin is gone. His eyes are looking a little bit less haunted. The clothes I had Ted get are baggy and probably came from the Big Q, but even with that camouflage, I can tell his body is very nice. And, that glorious mop of long golden hair is, well, glorious. He could obviously use a hair cut but other than that he's simply beautiful - I try to tamp that lesbionic thought down as fast as it arises but it's not going away because the truth of it is standing right next to me. This boy is damn hot. 

"That's much better, Sunshine," I say, the silly pet name I heard Debbie using for the boy earlier falling so easily from my tongue. "You look practically human now. So, come here and tell me what you want for dinner - I thought we'd order from the deli down the street tonight, if that's okay with you."

I show him the menu and he looks at it for several minutes. I'm just about to give up and order for him, when he shyly points to a small sandwich near the bottom of the a la carte section of the menu. He's biting his lip and darting sidewise glances at me as if he's afraid of something. Is he afraid I'll think he's being greedy if he orders a real dinner? His reticence is making me angry, although I'm not sure if I'm angry at him or at whatever the circumstances are that have left this kid in such a deplorable state

Thinking back over what the 'At Home Care' instructions from the hospital said about the boy's severe state of malnutrition, I mentally double that portion and decide to order him a green salad and a side of pasta as well. Oh, and better get him something sweet for dessert, too. This boy could use a couple of pounds on him as much as he needed that shower.

While I'm ordering the food, Justin wanders off looking around the loft. I'm just glad he's not standing there catatonic anymore. I get distracted by a call from Ted at the office as soon as I hang up with the deli, and don't notice what happens to the boy in the meantime. When I finally get Ted straightened out and pocket my cell phone, I look around and immediately get concerned since I can't see Justin anymore. While the loft isn’t exactly small, the open floor plan makes it fairly simple to look around and locate someone in the main rooms pretty quickly. The fact that I didn’t see Justin right away made me think that he’d gone into the bedroom or bath. Since I was curious about what my silent companion might be up to, I quickly trotted up to the bedroom to see if I could find him. A cursory look around, though, didn’t turn up any hot young blonds, so I headed back out to the main room.

By this point I was starting to get a little nervous about what the boy could be doing. Did he somehow leave while I was on the phone with Ted? I didn’t think so, but if not, where could he be? I was about to begin hollering out for the boy, when I happen to step to the far side of the sofa and notice that several of the cushions are missing. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the bright white fabric of one cushion lying on the floor in the corner between the bedroom and the entertainment center. On closer inspection, I find my missing blondie - huddled in a ball on the floor atop a pile of cushions and partially hidden by the free-standing CD holder and a floor lamp. He is sound asleep, a light little snore issuing from his stuffy nose.

“Oh, Sunshine,” I whisper, the forlorn sight eliciting all sorts of silly emotions that I'm not about to acknowledge. 

I grab a spare blanket out of the closet and cover him up, deciding to let him sleep where he is for the time being. 

I head over to my desk and spend the next twenty minutes working on the campaign for Daddies' Board Shop* - an up and coming skateboard, snowboard and ski manufacturer whose income last year, surprisingly enough, topped $5 million. Who knew that catering to a bunch of ski bunny slackers could be such big business? The company had come to my attention a couple of months ago when I met the CEO and her son at a social event in New York. They were floundering with their unexpected success and I knew I could lure them into the Kinnetik fold with a more structured advertising campaign. I had preliminary boards and a stack of ideas from my art department with me but nothing had really struck me yet as being that one perfect idea. I fumble around a bit with some additional brainstorming but toss it all aside when the buzzer rings to let me know our dinner is finally here.

After I pay for the food and carry the take out bags over to the coffee table along with some drinks, I notice that my guest is no longer sleeping peacefully. Justin is thrashing about on his pile of pillows, his head tossing from side to side and little whimpering noises coming from his cracked, sore looking lips. I start over towards him, intending to wake the boy from his nightmare and bring him over to eat.

Watching this sad hurt little boy in the throes of his dream, my anger is almost boiling over - how could anyone let this happen to such an enchanting boy? What hell has this kid been through in his short life already that could make him writhe in his sleep like this. I’m struggling with this feeling that I somehow need to make this right - to protect and care for this boy that I don’t even know and who has only said six words to me in the past two days. Why do I feel so protective of this little street kid?  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I am brought to consciousness, my breathing erratic and heart racing. I sit up abruptly and try to calm myself as the chaos of my thoughts drowns out reality. I had been in the grasp of a nightmare filled with familiarity. As I calm, I start thinking back, trying to remember, but stop myself, deciding it may be better just not knowing at this moment, or ever.

I hear shuffling behind me and I turn my body around quickly to see the outline of a figure making its way towards me. The room is dark. Even though I think it’s still pretty early, it’s winter, so the sun sets around six in the evening and nobody has turned any lights on in this area of the loft yet. As the figure nears me, though, I can finally make out His face and realize who it is. He looks at me, questions in His eyes. I drop my gaze and look away, ashamed, and bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head between my legs and my chest, huddling deeper into my nest of pillows and a blanket I don’t remember.

I feel the large cushion under me dip as He kneels next to me, but the man makes no move or attempt to touch me. We sit there for an undetermined amount of time, until my breathing has evened out. Taking a deep breath, releasing it and taking another I am finally able to get my thoughts in order. I still feel so tired - I don’t remember ever being this tired before, which says a lot after having been on the streets as long as I’ve been. I long to go back to sleep and feel like I could sleep for weeks, months, more maybe. But then the uneasiness from the nightmare creeps back to my consciousness and I shy away from sleep again. 

Before, if I had awakened in the night, I never seemed to be able to fall back asleep. Did I always have nightmares before? Were they the reason for my loss of sleep? I had become readily accustomed to so few hours of sleep while on the streets. Sleeping in the cold, in whatever hole I could find, wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep to start with, but what if there was something more to it? Did I want to know? Not really.

The man must have been reading the emotions racing across my face. He had risen to stand in front of me, holding out His hand for mine, His head turned away. Grateful, I put my hand in His, briefly enjoying the strength and warmth being connected provide. I allow Him to pull me to my feet and I admire His patience as we make our way towards the couch. He sits himself down and pulls me onto His lap, His arms closing about me. I don’t know what to do with these feelings of comfort and caring - they are completely alien to me - but, I don’t dislike them so I try to will my body to relax into the comforting embrace. Finally, I manage to let go of the tension in me enough to lay my head back against His shoulder. Finding this to be a comfortable spot, I close my eyes and wait, completely at a loss as to what is coming next.

Just as the feeling of comfort seeps into me, a different feeling arises and pain erupts in my chest, taking my breath away. My body becomes rigid and I feel moisture pooling in my eyes. Instinctively I know the pain isn’t physical, but that knowledge brings me no peace of mind. Part of the pain is fear. Why is this man being so kind to me? What happens to me now? Will I be able to live back on the streets - survive - after this?

Part of the pain is anger. Who did my father think he was to condemn me to this life? Part of the pain is anguish. How did I end up alone? Why can’t I be loved? Is there something wrong with me? The pain was many other things, in a way it was everything that is me, but these were the parts of most importance.

The arms wrap around me even tighter, locking me in a warm, secure embrace. The man doesn’t say a word, but I know that He’s there and worrying about me. I fret over the fact that I’m such a bother to Him and after He’s been so nice. I’m so much trouble. Why is He bothering? He doesn’t let me go though, even when I struggle a little to try to get away. His arms stay strongly around me, holding me together until the panicky feelings start to subside. The pain doesn’t go away. Not completely, but it subsides just enough when he is holding me.

“Are you hungry, Sunshine,” He whispers into my ear as soon as my breathing has calmed enough that He can tell I’m going to be okay. 

I nod, loving the feeling of His strong chest against my cheek as I move my head. I love the feeling and the sound of the small chuckle He makes then, the vibrations rippling through my skin and matching the low throaty sounds of His laugh. Why do we have to move? I don’t want to ever leave here - this particular time and space is perfect. Even though I am hungry, I wish I didn’t have to move right now. The man squeezes me once more, though, and then shifts my body off His lap so He can lean forward and arrange several take out boxes of food.

Food. God, it smells so good. I got several meals while I was in the hospital yesterday and this morning, but it was the same tasteless, bland food you get at the shelters or the soup kitchens. Whatever was making these smells was REAL food and I hadn’t had much real food in such a very long, long time. I was salivating like a dog waiting for its kibbles as I watched the man, His deft hands opening boxes and moving several towards me. There’s a roast beef sandwich - a large one, not the small one I’d indicated to him before. There was also a green salad - with real, unwilted lettuce and spinach and crisp bean sprouts - a pasta salad and even a real chocolate milk shake. 

“Whoa. Slow down, Sunshine,” He tells me with a small laugh as I start to stuff the sandwich in my mouth as fast as I can swallow. “It’s not going anywhere. I don’t want you choking to death trying to inhale that sandwich instead of chewing and swallowing it.”

I realize that my manners are a little lacking and quickly set the sandwich back down in the take out box, worried at how badly I’m behaving in front of Him. I want this man to like me for some reason. I don’t want Him to think badly of me, so I stop eating right away - He shouldn’t have to watch my miserable table manners while He’s eating his own food. I’ll just wait till He’s done and then I can eat and that way it won’t offend Him. I sit back with my hands in my lap, looking down at the floor, and I wait for Him to finish.   
~~*~~   
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

Shit. Why did I say anything? I was only joking about how fast he was eating and now he won’t eat at all. I shouldn’t have made any comments until after he was done eating. He needs to eat a lot more than I do, annoying kid. 

“Justin. I didn’t mean that you should stop eating,” I try to explain. “Please, finish your food. The doctor said you are severely malnourished and gave me strict orders about getting you fed on a regular schedule. You need to eat as much of that as you can. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. Please. Eat.”

He still won’t look at me directly - it’s starting to creep me out, but I guess I understand that he’s been so traumatized, living like an animal for so long, that he doesn’t feel comfortable around anyone. I hope he’ll get over it. Soon. 

Since he still isn’t eating, I decide to give him some space and I clear away the remains of my own dinner, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the boxes and other trash and heading for the bar to pour myself a Beam. Allowing him time to work through his thoughts I find myself wandering a couple of times around the loft, wondering again just what in the hell I think I'm doing. I decided it was too late, or early, to be bothered by what I'm doing, though. There's something compelling about this boy and I'm not going to just give up on him - it seems like too many other people have already done that. 

I finally settle back at my computer, looking over the Daddies account documentation again. When I look up a few minutes later, I note that Justin has begun to eat again - this time a bit slower and not as if someone was going to steal his food if he didn’t ingest it as fast as possible. I let a half smile reach my lips at the sight. This will work, I tell myself, still only half convinced but very determined nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A real Portland business - voted one of the best places to work in Oregon last year. I have no affiliation with this business, nor do I profess that they have any affiliation with QAF or my writings, but I just think these guys are so cool, I thought I’d give them a shout out in my story. Check out their website if you have time: Daddies Board Shop - Portland, OR


	4. Shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is starting to get a deeper look at what Justin is going through. He wants to take care of Justin - he feels compelled to care for this street kid who so desperately needs someone - but this is far outside of Brian's usual comfort zone. It will be very, VERY hard for Brian to determine what Justin needs to make him whole. Enjoy. TAG. 
> 
> P.S. There are still a few quotes here from LovelessSouls. All credit for these wonderful, compelling lines goes to the original author. I'm just borrowing them to further my own story. Thank you, LovelessSouls! TAG

Chapter 4 - Shelter.

Shelter: Something that physically protects, especially from danger.

~~*~~   
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

By now it’s about 9:30 pm and, as expected, the usual crowd starts to hound me to join them for the night out at the bar or the club. First I get a call from Ted. He’s calling from Woody’s and just wanted to let me know that the gang is waiting on me for drinks before they head over to Babylon for the night. I tell him that I’m not sure I can make it tonight. I can’t really elaborate on why, though, because before I can get anything more out, I hear the buzzer sounding on the loft’s front door so I end the call with Ted and answer the buzzer.

It’s Michael at the door, of course, coming to drag me along to the bar with him. Somehow or other he’s not really in the loop about Justin, who is sitting patiently on the sofa waiting for me. 

“Hey, Brian. Who’s that?” Michael asks, pointing rudely over at Justin while the boy appears to be trying to make himself invisible by sinking into the couch cushions. 

“That is Justin. He’s my GUEST, Mikey.” I say, trying to emphasize the ‘guest’ part so Michael will curb his rude curiosity.

“What’s he doing here, Brian? We need to get going to Woody’s. The guys are already waiting for us. You’ll have to kick this guy out quick or we’ll miss them.” Michael states brusquely, giving Justin a dismissive glance.

“Mikey! I just said that Justin is my guest. He’s not going anywhere. Don’t you and your mother talk like five times a day? I would think you would have been brought up to date regarding Emmett’s little lost street urchin already.” I say as I grab ahold of Michael’s shoulder and try to maneuver him back towards the door.”

“That’s the kid Emmett found? I didn’t know he was coming here with you. I thought Ma was going to put him up at home for a couple days. Nobody said you were going to be playing babysitter.” Michael shakes off my guiding hand and walks back to the sofa so he can more fully examine the interesting new specimen currently being cared for by the Liberty Diner gang, myself now included.

“The ‘kid’ has a name, Mikey - it’s Justin. And, he’s sitting right there listening to you. You don’t need to talk about him like he’s not here or deaf or something,” I admonish my callous friend. 

“Sorry. But whatever, Brian. We need to get going. You aren’t even dressed yet,” Michael dismisses the obviously insignificant twink in a blink as he concentrates on getting me ready for our standard Thursday night bar and club hopping. 

“Not tonight, Mikey,” I say immediately, again trying to impel Michael towards the door. “I’m going to stay home tonight. Justin is still settling in and I don’t want to abandon him for the night. You go on and enjoy your night with the guys and I’ll see you later, Mikey.”

“What the fuck, Brian? You’re not coming out with us tonight?” Michael appears to be astounded by the fact that I’m not going out for one night - apparently I’ve become a little too predictable, I think, if Michael can’t imagine my staying home for one single night. 

“You do speak English, don’t you, Mikey?” I snark, as I more forcefully drag my friend to the door. “I’m staying home tonight. Is that too hard for you to understand? Go on and play with your little friends and have a good time, Mikey. I’m a big boy and I can entertain myself for one night. Bye bye, Mikey!” I say and I slide the loft door closed in his face before he can protest further.

“That was Mikey, Sunshine,” I comment to the boy as I return to sit next to him on the sofa. “He’s a twat, but sorta my best friend. Don’t pay him too much mind - he was raised by a raging queen and a single Italian mother, so he pretty much has no manners. He’s got a big heart though, if you can see it through all the bluster.” 

Justin actually snorts softly - it's the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard from him so far - and he smiles a tiny half smile while he carefully examines his foot so as not to have to look at me directly. This is definitely progress.  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I’m actually full. I haven’t felt full in . . . . well, I don’t know if I’ve ever not been at least a little hungry. I like this feeling a lot. But I feel even more sleepy now that I’ve eaten. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I don’t want to sleep while He is here, though. I can’t believe I fell asleep earlier. I don’t want to waste a single moment of time that I can spend with Him. I’m sure that this can’t last and that soon I’ll be alone again. I still can’t forget the feeling of Him holding me in His arms earlier. I want to feel like that again. And if I can’t feel that, I want to at least listen to Him talking and watch Him moving around. If I let myself sleep, I won’t be able to see Him anymore and that thought makes the pain in my gut throb a little more strongly. 

Then the other man comes into the loft. The other man talks too loudly and moves around a lot and waves his arms about too much. I don’t like him at all. He’s talking about me the way people usually talk about me when they see me on the streets - like I don’t mean anything, like I don’t count for anything and they can say anything about me they want and I won’t understand or at least I won’t care. 

He tells the other man to stop talking about me like that, though. He is actually standing up for me to his friend. No one has ever stood up for me before. Ever. Well, not since Daphne, but she’s been gone a long time now so it probably doesn’t even count. But He’s telling His friend to talk to me directly. Then He tells His friend to leave and that He’s going to stay with me tonight! He says my name and says He’s not going to abandon me for the night. I’m afraid to believe what I hear. I just won’t listen, I decide. I won’t count on anything. I’ll just wait.

Then He makes the other man leave and He comes to sit with me again on the couch. He makes a joke about his friend not having any manners and I almost even laugh. I don’t remember laughing for a long time. It feels strange but good. He makes me feel good - sort of safe. 

Then I remember the other man called Him something. . . Brian. Yeah. I remember hearing Emmett calling him that now too. He is Brian. That’s a very nice name, I think to myself. Brian. 

Brian starts to pick up the remains from my dinner and I’m startled back to the present. I’m scared and embarrassed that I’ve left a mess for Him to clean up. I scurry to my feet and grab the boxes and other trash out of his hands and quickly take it all to the kitchen, throwing it all in the trash and getting a towel to wipe off the table where I might have dropped something or made some other mess. Brian grabs my hand as I return to the coffee table and takes the towel away from me.

“You don’t have to do that, Justin. I have a cleaning service to take care of that. I appreciate you cleaning up the take out boxes but you don’t have to wipe down the tables or anything,” Brian says to me, as he carefully guides me to sit back down on the couch. “Now, we still have dessert. Do you think you can eat more? If not, I can save it for you for later.”

There’s more? Fuck! I can’t believe there is more. I remember the concept of dessert, but for so long now there’s only been ‘food’ - you eat what you can when you can get it and there isn’t any room for a concept like ‘dessert’, which entails something extra over and beyond ‘food’. I have no idea how to respond to such a concept anymore.  
Brian is standing there waiting for me to tell him somehow if I think I can eat more and I can tell he doesn’t understand why this is so hard for me. How the fuck do I explain to him? In the end all I do is nod again like some idiot bobble-head doll that can’t do anything else. 

Brian doesn’t seem to mind though and he comes right back with a plate loaded with what looks like chocolate cake. I hear myself moan at the mere sight of anything that delicious. It’s almost erotic how excited I get from the sight of that slice of cake. I remember that I love chocolate. I haven’t had any in a long time but I remember the taste. It’s just too much, though. The food, the shower, the warm safe place to sleep earlier. Now, chocolate cake and He is standing there watching like I’m supposed to know how to handle all this. I can’t do it. It’s too much.  
~~*~~   
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

Okay, I wasn’t ready for Justin’s reaction to the dessert I just put down on the table in front of him. He sat there staring at the plate for a couple minutes like I’d tried to feed him rat poison and then he just burst out into sobs and tears. What the fuck? Who cries over chocolate cake? If he didn’t want it he didn’t have to eat it, but I didn’t expect him to start to cry. 

I’m really, really not good at this whole caregiver thing, I think. What the fuck was I thinking bringing the kid here? I can’t even seem to get him fed without heaps of drama. I really hate dealing with anyone who’s crying - probably just another one of the reasons why I’m totally turned off by most women. The sight of Justin crying though doesn’t strike me the same way - I’m not turned off, I just want to make the tears stop somehow. 

I start to take the cake away back to the kitchen. I figure I’ll put it away in the fridge for Justin for later and if he changes his mind he can eat it then. But, as I start to walk away with the plate, the sobbing from the little blond gets even louder. I’m completely lost as to what to do. 

I put the plate back down on the coffee table and move around toward the sobbing boy, trying to move slowly so as not to spook him. I manage to sit next to him and awkwardly put my arm around his shoulders. I just hold him and wait until the crying quiets and the tears stop. He’s sitting there with his head leaning on my shoulder and I can feel his shaking slow down and eventually notice his breathing has become more regular. 

When I angle my head to look down at him, I almost laugh - he’s fallen asleep again. The kid has cried himself to sleep over a fucking piece of chocolate cake - this is a first for Brian Kinney who has never held anyone while they cried before, let alone a cute little blond street kid who got overly emotional over his dessert. If he wasn’t so fucking adorable, I would probably start laughing at the little drama princess. Instead, I carefully lie him down on the couch, grabbing a cushion and the blanket from the pile he’s left on the floor and tuck him in to sleep.

I figure I’ve done all I can for the boy as far as the malnutrition and the exhaustion are concerned. The cold will take care of itself - all I have to do is to remember to give him the meds tomorrow morning. I guess sleep is the best remedy for him, so I let him get on with it and I go back to working on the boards for Daddies’ Board Shop.   
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Someone cries out in the dark and it brings me awake immediately. It turns out the cry was from me. Another fucking nightmare. Thankfully I don’t remember what this one was about either. I really don’t want to know. It has to be about my father though, since I wake up with that feeling of panic I always get when I think of him. The panic and fear that the nightmare has left behind aren't going away and I wish I could forget those as well. 

I feel the couch dip near me, but Brian makes no move to touch me. I feel bad that I’ve woken Him up now too. Eventually, I allow Him to pull me to my feet and I again admire His patience, given the early hour, as He tows me towards His bedroom. We make our way towards the bed at a sluggish pace, my legs aren’t working particularly well yet. When we reach the bed, I lie down in the space He provides for me. He gets into the bed next to me and I roll over so my back is towards Him - facing away from Him is easier than looking Him in the face. His arms wrap around me and lock me in a warm, secure embrace. I close my eyes and wait for exhaustion to take over. I wonder if He's gonna fuck me now. Brian doesn’t say a word, but I know that he hasn’t succumbed to sleep because His breathing is still shallow and not even. 

“Sleep, Sunshine. Leave your musings for when the sun is shining,” Brian whispers into my ear.

The sound of his voice is so comforting - in a way I can’t even begin to explain. The pain in my gut left over from the nightmare still doesn’t go away completely, but it does subside again just enough, while He is holding me, that I manage to get back to sleep, sheltered in the strength of His arms.  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I can't sleep. I can't stop wondering what the hell must have happened to do this to the kid. I mean, I'm no stranger to abuse - growing up with Jack and Joanie as parents, I've seen my share of shit. But compared to Justin, I feel practically well-adjusted.

Every time he falls asleep, he wakes up screaming after only an hour or two. I don't think he even realizes he's doing it. This is the third time tonight he's bolted awake. There are still never any words to his terror, just panic filled screaming. And when he wakes, it's like nothing's happened - he just blinks at me, still saying nothing, then rolls over and goes right back to sleep. He seems so complaisant about it all - like this isn't anything unusual for him - like he somehow expects his life to be like this. I, on the other hand, am a complete basket case. 

What the hell am I going to do? One night of this I can probably handle, but does this go on every fucking night? Which brings me back to wondering again what could possibly have done this to him. Somehow I don't think it's just from being on the streets - this goes way fucking deeper. And for some reason, I just really, desperately want to help him but I have absolutely no idea even where to start.

I must have eventually fallen asleep because my ringing cell phone wakes me. It's got to be after 10:00 am since the pale winter sun is actually high enough to shine over the top of the neighboring building and in through the loft windows. I'm a bit groggy at first - all I can do is fumble around on the night stand until I find the offensive ringing device.

"Kinney," I croak.

"Hey, Bri," Michael's overly cheerful voice drills into my eardrum. "Just checking to see how your night in with the street twink went."

That comment wakes me up enough to wonder where the boy is, since he's obviously not here next to me in bed.

"Can't talk now, Mikey. Gotta go," I manage as I hang up.

I don’t want to just yell out for Justin - he's so jumpy, I'm afraid to frighten him by calling out. So I get out of bed and go looking for him instead. I can tell almost at once that there's something wrong. It's too quiet and too neat. I already know somehow that he's gone. I still need to make sure though, so I get up and look.

The first place I check, after briefly poking my head into the bathroom, is the corner where Justin made his little nest of cushions yesterday afternoon. All the cushions are gone - placed carefully back on the couch - and the blanket is neatly folded and draped over the sofa back. Then I notice that all the new clothes I got him are likewise folded in a neat pile on the coffee table. Shit, I have a really bad feeling now. 

There's no sign of him anywhere around the loft. I finally throw caution to the wind and call out his name - just in case he's hiding somewhere - but there's no answer. When I come to the kitchen, I see that there's something large and white sitting on the counter. When I'm near enough, I see it's a drawing made on a large sheet of paper - on closer inspection it turns out to be the back side of one of the preliminary drawings my art department did for the Daddies' Board Shop account. Next to the drawing is a small pile of ragged, crumpled dollar bills - it looks like about fifty bucks altogether.

Shit. He's gone.

"Michael, meet me at the Diner in fifteen minutes," I'm yelling into the phone as I pull on my clothing, already heading towards the door. "It's an emergency. Oh, and call Em and Ted and get them down there too. We're gonna need help. The kid is missing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian has always been the one to want to take care of people. He just doesn't want anyone to know that he cares that much. However, this situation is going to test that resolve. Everyone is going to know exactly how protective and caring Brian is by the end of this fic. That is, if he can figure out what has happened to Justin to get him to this tragic place. Next chapter - Brian and the gang are off to the rescue of the ill, lost twink! TAG.


	5. Rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian finds Justin and brings him back to the loft. Unfortunately, Brian still isn't really understanding what caused Justin to leave in the first place. When he finally does start to understand, it's likely to shatter his belief that he truly can help this boy. Angst to the max - warning! TAG.

Chapter 5 - Rescue.

Rescue: To save someone from a dangerous or distressing situation.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm just not used to sleeping much past dawn. Once the sun comes up, people start to show up and I'd better be on my way if I don't want to get hassled. So I'm up at about 7:00 am, even here in His loft. I remember waking Him up a couple times during the night - I feel bad about that, so I try not to make any noise and just let Brian sleep some more. 

While he's asleep I wander around and let my curiosity free a little - yesterday I was just too tired, it seemed, to spend any time really looking over my surroundings, but I've got time now so I indulge. This place is beautiful. Too nice, in fact - it makes me nervous touching anything, since I'm afraid I'll break it or get it dirty. So I just look and try not to touch anything.

On His desk I see a bunch of pictures and drawings that interest me. I study some of the drawings for a bit. I'm fascinated by the ideas I see - the ideas are really inspiring, but I think I might be able to do a better job on the drawing, so I sit at the desk and draw on the back of one of the papers for a while till I'm satisfied with my work. I think it looks really good - it's a pretty good rendering of a longboard with a cool business logo drawn on it, a trail of smoking flames in the board's wake. I think the picture will go well with the advertising slogan Brian was apparently playing with. I hope He likes it. I put my drawing on His kitchen counter where I'm sure He'll see it when He wakes up.

I wish He was awake already. It's getting late and I probably should get going. I never like to outstay my welcome when a John's been nice enough to let me stay the night. They usually don't Iike it much if you're still hanging around when they get up. 

But I sorta liked Brian, and I'm kinda sorry he never did get around to fucking me. I feel like it was my fault - I really wasn't feeling all that great and I did fall asleep on him twice. He was so nice to me too - feeding me and letting me shower and all. I think maybe he or one of his friends even paid the doctors for when I passed out. I almost decide to stay and see if he still wants to fuck me to pay him back for everything.

I change my mind, though - it's always best to just get out early in the mornings. The last thing I want is to piss Him off by staying when I should be moving on like I'm expected to. But, since he was so nice, I decide to leave him some money to pay him back in case he paid for the doctor. I only have a bit over two hundred left at this point - I wish I could leave more, but I figure $50 should be a start at least. I put the money on the counter next to the drawing I made. Then I change back into my old clothes and quietly slip out the door, back to the streets where I live.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Everybody has his or her marching orders. Em and Ted are looking down by the river where there are a bunch of homeless camps. Michael and his new boyfriend, Ben, are going to go over to where the hustler boys hang out and see if they can get some info from them. Lindsey and Mel, who conveniently happened to be having breakfast at the diner already, are off to go talk to the director of the homeless teen shelter and then the teen resource center at the GLC. Deb is spreading the word through the Diner's clientele while she works. That should cover all the known bases in and around Liberty Avenue.

The only problem with our plan is that I somehow get the feeling that Justin won't be found in one of the usual places - if so, someone would have seen him around before now, and that definitely wasn't the case. The kid was a complete newcomer on the Avenue - before he turned up in front of Torso and passed out the other day, no one had ever seen him. But from the way the kid acted, he'd been on the streets a long time. So where had this above average looking kid been hiding all this time?

The only clue I have is the torn and crumpled flyer I find left over in the pocket of the jacket I'd let him borrow earlier. It was from one of those religious based homeless shelters - it wasn't on Liberty, but wasn't that far away either. That’s where I head first. 

God, I hope we find him quickly - it feels even colder out today than it did the day Emmett found him passed out in front of Torso. The weather report is calling for snow later in the day, too. I don't want Justin outside on a day like this. He’s still sick - he hasn't even taken the meds he'd been given at the hospital. Another night on the streets in below freezing temperatures would probably finish him off for good. That thought chilled my blood more than the frigid temperatures outside.

The guy at the Third Street Baptist Shelter didn't recognize my description of Justin, but he did recommend that I try over at the Presbyterian Church - because of the arctic temperatures, they were keeping the doors to their soup kitchen open all day long today and word was apparently out on the streets already. So I trudge over there and start asking around to see if anyone had seen Sunshine recently. 

Paydirt! One craggy old street veteran - he looks like he’s about ninety, which means he’s probably only a meth addict a little older than me - recognizes my description of Justin and tells me to check out the park a few blocks away. He says he's seen Justin hanging out there in the past - sometimes drawing the kids on the playground and trying to sell the drawings to their doting parents. 

I really hope this guy's right. The snow is already starting to fall and I can't imagine that thin-framed kid out on the streets tonight. I remember the feel of his slim, trembling body in my arms last night and I start to panic a bit. I want him back. I don't want to even think about Justin out here in this cold. I wish I knew why he'd left. I wish I knew how to help him.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I was right before to wonder how I would survive back out here after leaving His place. I wish He hadn't been so nice to me. If He'd been like just another John, I wouldn't still be thinking about Him. That's always the problem with the nice ones - you get unreasonable expectations and then it hurts even more when you end up back where you started. 

I really should know better. That's one lesson my father taught me well. He always said that I took too much for granted. He used to say it was for my own good when he'd lock me in my room without food for days. You never wanted to get to where you took shit for granted, he'd tell me. It made you appreciate what you did have all the more when you were never sure if you'd get whatever it was - food, warmth, attention - ever again. 

You especially didn't want to take people for granted. When they disappeared, like they always did, it hurt even more than when you lost the physical shit like clothes, food, possessions. That's why you never, ever, under ANY circumstances, let yourself get close to anyone. 

I try to get Him out of my head again. I know I'll probably never see Him again, so I should just forget about Him and get on with thinking about finding something to eat. I definitely shouldn't be thinking back to all that delicious food He gave me. 

That's when I remember the chocolate cake I never got to taste and I want to cry again - I really would have liked to taste that cake. Shake it off Taylor - remember, stuff like that isn't meant for trash like you. You're better off not having tried the cake - you'd just be thinking about it all day and wishing for more and that was exactly the kind of unproductive thinking that would get you in trouble. 

I think maybe I'll use some of the money I have left to get a burrito from that little store off the park. Their burritos are huge - one of the best values around - and I feel like maybe splurging on food will help get my mind off Him. So, I head towards the park and my lunchtime plans. 

With my Honkin' Huge Burrito in hand, I walk towards my favorite bench to sit and eat. I always try to sit here near the playground when I eat. I like listening to the kids laughing and playing and watching the happy parents - it's like one of those sitcoms from the seventies about the happy family where the kids are always getting into some snafu that everyone ends up laughing over in the end. Watching the little fictions played out here is almost as entertaining as having the actual television. 

There aren't many people out today though since it's just too cold. There is only one dad and his kid - who is probably about 5 or 6 - out playing in the snow. I have a fuzzy memory of playing like that in the snow with my mother, so watching these two makes me smile and I lose track of time while I'm sitting there. 

I don't know how much longer it is when I notice someone has joined me on the bench. I almost jump up and run when I look over and see that it's Him. Fuck. How did He find me? And why? Is He pissed at me about something? I know he didn't get to fuck me because I wasn't feeling good, but I didn't ask him for any money. I even left him some to pay for the doctor. Shit, why is He here? Why is He looking at me like that? I was just starting to get Him out of my head and now He’s back, making it harder again. 

"Justin, why did you leave this morning?" He asks me. "I was worried about you. I have Emmett and Michael and practically everyone else I know, out looking for you. You're still sick, you know. The doctor said you should be in bed, or at least resting. You definitely should not be out here in the cold, especially without a much warmer jacket on."

I'm confused again by His words. I really don't understand why He's here looking for me. What does He mean He was worried about me? Why? My head feels hot and funny and I really don't want to have to figure this out right now. What does He want from me? I just want Him to go away so I can watch the kid and his father play some more and then maybe find a place to sleep. 

"Justin? You don't look very good. What's wrong?" Brian asks, looking at me, then he slowly reaches over to turn my chin so I'm facing him. "Shit. You're burning up with fever, Sunshine. You shouldn't be out here in the cold like this. Come on. You're coming back home with me and you will NOT leave again until I say it's okay. Do you hear me?"

I would protest but I feel so weak all of a sudden. Brian has scooted nearer to me on the bench now and He's put His arms around me again. It's warmer with Him next to me - his body blocks some of the wind. I start to feel dizzy-like, even with Him holding me up. What was I going to say?

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Thank god I found him when I did. He's burning hot, in spite of the fact that he's sitting here on this exposed park bench in the snow. I thought the cold the doctor mentioned would be getting better by now, not worse. I have to get him home and into a warm bed. He seems so confused again, poor kid. I wish I knew why he left this morning in the first place. 

Before I get up, I quickly phone Michael and tell him to call off the troops. I remember to tell him to have his Mom bring over some hot soup for the kid when she gets done at the Diner. Then I scoop up the boy and start to carry him back towards where I left the Jeep.

"Brian," I hear him rasp quietly, his throat obviously sore from this cold. 

"Hey, you CAN talk, Sunshine. I was beginning to wonder. But save it for later, okay. Right now I'm taking you back home. You just rest," I order, while his long dark blond eyelashes flutter closed and he falls asleep again.

I manage to get Justin back to the loft, strip off those filthy clothes and get him in bed under the covers, but at that point I'm completely lost as to what to do next. I have vague memories from old movies about putting sick kids in the bathtub to bring down their fever, but I don't have a bath and for some reason I don't think a shower will work the same. Also, Justin missed his morning dose of the meds the doc sent home and now I'm not sure if I should give him the next dose or not. Do I try to wake him up and make him eat or just let him sleep? Shit, sick little blond twinks should come with instruction manuals - I'm so fucked. 

In my utter state of panic I resort to my last best option - I decide to call for help. I would normally call Debbie in a situation like this, but she's working till after the lunch shift and I can't deal with this alone that long. I opt instead for calling Lindsey. She's a mother - she has to have the right genes for this kind of thing, doesn’t she? After she finishes chortling at my distress, Lindz agrees to come right over to help. 

Once Lindz arrives, everything calms down pretty fast - well at least I calm down. She tells me to leave Justin in bed - forget the shower or waking him to eat or take his meds. She does get a sports bottle and fill it with ice water and put it by the bed and tells me to make sure he drinks as much water as possible when he wakes to make sure he stays hydrated. I can do that. She calls the doctor for me and gets the okay to continue with Justin's meds when he does wake. I can also give him ibuprofen to help bring down the fever. Then Lindz makes the two of us lunch and she forces me sit down and eat. And she doesn't even laugh at me too much for freaking out before.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm totally disoriented when I wake up. I don’t know where I'm at or how I got here. It looks familiar but I'm not sure why. I'm in a bed in a house, though, not on the streets in one of my more familiar hidey holes. 

My head is killing me - I have a headache like you wouldn't believe and I feel achy all over. Did I get beat up again and just not remember? I don't know where my clothes are either. Maybe I'm at another John's place. That doesn't explain why I don't remember where I'm at though. 

I keep drifting in and out. I don't usually take drugs - mostly because I can rarely afford them - but the way I feel, maybe someone slipped something to me. It wouldn't be the first time. It's not a very good high, though, my head is pounding and my throat hurts and I feel really cold even though I'm under a pile of blankets. Shit. Whatever it was I took, I wish I hadn't. 

The next time I wake up, it finally all makes sense. Brian. I see Him. He comes into the room where I'm sleeping and He smiles at me. So that explains why this place seems familiar - He must have brought me back to His loft for some reason.

He's carrying a mug of something hot - I think it's coffee. It smells so wonderful - I can even smell it through this stuffy nose. I wonder if He'll let me have some. I feel so fucking cold and I think that might help me warm up, but I'm hesitant to ask Him. At least not until I find out why He's brought me back here. 

"Hey there. Glad to see you're finally awake, Sunshine," He says, still smiling at me. "I was beginning to think you weren't gonna wake up at all. Are you hungry?"

Actually, I'm not very hungry, which in and of itself is pretty weird, since I'm always hungry. I just shrug - I'm still nervous about why I'm here again so I don't really want to say much yet. I wish I knew where my clothes are, though - all my money was in them as well as my other stuff. I mean, I don't really have much anymore, but I don't want to lose what I do still have. 

"Justin, please talk to me. I can tell you're upset about something. But I won't know what’s wrong, though, unless you tell me." Brian sits on the edge of the bed next to me, holding out the coffee cup as He speaks, and I grab it before He changes his mind. 

"My clothes?" I croak around the rasp in my throat.

"I'm washing them for you," He says. I must still look worried or something, though, because He quickly adds, "Don't worry, all your stuff is over there on the dresser."

I sit up in the bed so I can sip at the coffee. Brian is still sitting next to me. He looks concerned. He places one hand on my forehead. His hand feels cool - it's nice. The coffee tastes great and feels good on my sore throat. But I'm still cold.

"You still have a fever," Brian states, still with that worried look. "I’m afraid I don’t actually own a thermometer, so I don’t know how high your temp is. Maybe I should take you back to the doctor?"

"No!" I don't want to go to the hospital or even to the doctor - even though this last time wasn't that awful, I have bad memories of those places.

"Okay, okay. No doctors," Brian quickly agrees, trying to keep me from jumping out of the bed. "But you have to promise me something, Justin. You have to promise that you won't leave again. Not until I tell you it's okay. You'll never get well at this rate if you keep wandering around in the cold. Plus, I don't want to have to keep tracking you down in the snow. Do you promise?"

I'm still not sure why He's trying to keep me here. Brian seems nice, but I still don't like it that He won't let me leave. I don't like to be kept inside places. It reminds me of my father. But if I don't agree He said he'd take me back to the doctor, and I like that idea even less, so I reluctantly nod. I guess I will stay, at least for now.

"Good. Thank you. Now, you need to try and eat something so you can take your meds. Deb brought you some homemade chicken soup. I can tell you from personal experience that it's pretty decent stuff - she used to stuff me full of that shit when I was sick as a kid."

Brian hands me some clothes that He pulls out of a dresser drawer. These look like the clothes He brought me when I was at the hospital. I wonder briefly why he has clothes that are clearly not his size or style. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. I put them on and follow him out to the kitchen. He tells me to sit at the kitchen island while he heats up some soup for both of us. He makes me drink a large glass of water while we wait, telling me something about dehydration. I’m kinda not really listening anymore though since my head still hurts really bad. I don’t remember ever feeling this tired and weak. I would really like to just go back to sleep, but He’s working to make me food and everything, so I have to stay here and be polite and pretend to listen.

Finally the food is ready and He gets me a bowl. It tastes fantastic. The hot soup makes my throat feel a lot better. I guess I am hungrier than I thought - I manage to eat pretty much the whole bowl. Then Brian gives me a couple ibuprofen and another large white pill that I’m supposed to take. I swallow obediently. Now what, I wonder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian has rescued his boy but still doesn't know what to do with him. Poor Brian. Poor Justin. Will they ever be able to communicate enough to figure this out? Will Justin ever be able to speak more than a sentence at a time in Brian's presence? You'll have to keep reading to find out more. TAG.


	6. Confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian begins to get some clues as to what has happened in Justin's past to cause him to be like he is. Angst warning - Again. Very dark. But, a little Gus humor is added to lighten the mood a little. Hope this isn't too overwhelming. TAG.

Chapter 6 - Confusion.

Confusion: A lack of understanding; uncertainty.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Okay - I’ve managed to get him fed and given him his meds. Now, what? I really suck at this caregiver shit. At least he seems a little better since he ate. I’d really like to get him to talk to me a little and explain what happened this morning - why he left. Weird, huh? Brian Kinney wants to ‘talk’? What the hell is the world coming to.

So far, the boy has said less than ten words to me. I don’t know why he doesn’t talk. He strikes me as intelligent - you’d have to be to survive on the streets at his age - and there’s something about the occasional spark in his eyes that tells me there’s a lot going on inside his little blond brain, but he just doesn’t seem to be able to let it all out. I can’t help wondering why. So, the next part of my plan is to try to get him to talk to me.

I grab his hand, ignoring the way he still flinches whenever he’s touched, and lead him to the sofa. He seems upset at first, looking back over his shoulder at the kitchen area. I let him pull his hand free and he immediately rushes back, picks up his bowl and the few serving utensils I’d been using and washes them by hand, setting everything on the counter to dry. Then he picks up a towel and wipes down the counter where we were sitting. Once he’s finished cleaning up after us, he moves back to stand by my side complaisantly, waiting for whatever I choose to ask of him. It’s eerie watching him - it’s like he’s compelled to clean up before he can do anything. I’m all for neatness, but this doesn’t seem right, somehow.

I set that thought aside to deal with another time. I hope that eventually, the mystery that is Justin Taylor will all come clear. For now, though, I just want to focus on this morning. Once he’s finished his self-imposed chore, he obediently follows me to the sofa and sits where I indicate, waiting for me to start.

“Justin, I think we need to talk. Is that okay?” He bites at his lip nervously when I say this, studiously looking at the carpet rather than at me and seemingly making his body smaller by folding in on himself. “Well, if you don’t want to talk, I guess that’s okay. I guess I’ll just talk then and if you want to comment, well, just join in when you’re ready. “

“Do you understand that you’re really ill?” I ask, noting his small shrug of indifference. “You passed out the other day when you were with Emmett. The doctor said it was due to severe malnutrition, exhaustion and the onset of this cold you have. All three together are what’s causing you to feel so lousy. The doctor warned me that if we aren’t careful this cold could get worse and you could develop pneumonia. You just can’t keep going like this - if you go back out on the street before you’re well, you could die. That’s why I want you to stay here until you’re better. Do you understand?”

He shakes his head ‘no’. He’s let his head fall forward and his face is obscured by his long hair - it’s as if he’s trying to hide from me. I can tell from his body language though that he’s very upset by what I’ve said. I let my hand rest on his wrist - I feel like the sense of touch will help me make a connection with him.

“What don’t you understand, Justin?” I wait but he doesn’t answer. “Do you understand that you’re sick - that you have a cold?”

A nod.

“Do you understand that you’re malnourished because you haven’t been eating right for a very long time?”

Another nod, this time with another shrug.

“And that you haven’t been getting enough sleep - your lack of sleep is making it hard for your body to get well?”

Only a shrug this time.

“Well, it’s true. You need more rest in order to get well again. That’s what the doctor said, at least. I guess that you’re used to the lack of sleep, but you don’t normally have to fight off a virus at the same time either.”

What am I missing here? He obviously understands that he’s sick even if he doesn’t agree that he needs to get more rest or eat better in order to get well again. You wouldn’t think a street kid would object to getting fed on a regular basis or having a warm place to sleep. So what is it that he doesn’t get? 

I’d better hurry and figure this out, though, his eyelids are starting to droop with fatigue. Here I am trying to explain how he needs more rest, but keeping him up at the same time. I just feel like I won’t be able to rest until I understand what the problem is. Even hiding behind that sheet of long hair, there is something so compelling about this boy. He brings out this need to help him that I can’t, I don’t want to, avoid.

“What is it that you don’t understand, Sunshine,” I muse half to myself. “I just want to help you. I want you to get better.”

“That,” Justin’s response is so quiet I can barely hear him. “I don’t understand that. Why? I’m trash. I'm nothing.”

Ouch. His words cause me an actual, physical pain. It’s like a stab in my gut. He thinks he’s ‘nothing’? What happened to this boy?  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I’m glad that Brian finally stopped with all the talking. I don’t really like talking much. Plus, I’m tired again and even though the headache is gone, I still feel achy and sore. I just really want to sleep some more. He must see how tired I am because He gets up and takes me back to the bed and let’s met lie down again. I think I’m asleep before I’m even all the way lying down.  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I put him into bed and watch him sleep for the longest time. I bring in a chair from the other room so my presence won't disturb him. I sip at my third tumbler of JB while I ponder what he said to me earlier. 

He thinks he's 'trash'. Something to just throw away when you're done using it. But who would throw out a perfectly good sunshine?

When he's asleep he's abso-fucking-lutely beautiful. He's so peaceful. All the fear and pain I see in his eyes when he's awake is gone now. He's so pale, though. If it weren't for the slight wheezing caused by his cold I wouldn't be sure he was still alive. 

But even asleep he scares me. He makes me feel all these emotions that I've refused to acknowledge for a long, long time. I want to take care of him. I want to take away all that pain for him. I haven't even fucked him yet but I think I lo . . I care about him a lot.

I don't even recognize myself. Where the fuck has Brian Kinney gone? Who the fuck is this sentimental twat crying into his drink over some pathetic little blond street kid? And, how the fuck can anyone fix this? 

I need another drink.  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

'You are a worthless piece of shit. You know that, right? I don't know why I even bother with you. I try to teach you - to show you how proper children are supposed to behave - but you are so fucking stupid you apparently can't even learn that. Can you? No, you can't. I work hard all day and when I come home I just want to relax and unwind and what do I find instead? This!' 

The letter from the school counsellor is crumpled in his hand and he's waving it in my face. 

'Now I have to go down to that school of yours and deal with some bleeding heart liberal, namby-pamby school counsellor who thinks she knows better than me how to raise my son. Bullshit. What the fuck does she mean that you're displaying signs of severe depression and anger management issues? Have you been acting out again? You are such a fucking waste of my time. You are so stupid you can't even manage to get along with a bunch of sixth graders? You stupid piece of shit. You waste of time piece of trash . . . '

"Dad, please, I didn't do anything. I promise. John Pierce was the one who started it. I didn't mean to get into trouble. Please don't be angry, Dad. I'm not worthless. I'm not trash. Please, Dad. I'll do better, please don't be angry."

I'm so sick of seeing your lying piece of shit face right now, Justin. Just get the hell out of my sight. How can you keep doing this shit to your mother and me? Don't you think we have enough to deal with without your antics? Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear from you until Monday, you hear me? Don't you dare come out of that room til I tell you. You just sit in there and think about all the trouble you cause your mother and I.'

"Don't, Dad. Please don't lock me in my room. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll be better. . . No, Dad, please. No. Please let me out. Please. Please. . . "  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"Don't, Dad. Please don't lock me in my room. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll be better. . . No, Dad, please. No. Please let me out. Please. Please. . . "

This isn’t like the other nightmares. I can’t seem to wake him up. He keeps repeating that over and over. When I crawl into bed with him to try to hold him, I can feel that his skin is ridiculously hot. His fever is back. He’s shaking so violently it scares me. 

“Justin. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh, Justin. . . ,” nothing I’m saying or doing is helping - he’s stuck in this nightmare and he’s burning up with fever. 

Fuck leaving him in the bed this time - It’s back to my classic movie training. I drag the boy out of bed and carry him to the shower. I adjust the water till it’s barely lukewarm and sit with him under the spray - all his clothes still on since I never did get him undressed before. The water seems to be helping finally, though. I’m sitting on the shower floor holding him and rocking him and he finally stops crying out. He’s still shaking, but not as bad. 

He’s quiet now. He blinks up at me like he’s just waking up and can’t figure out where we are or why we’re in the shower with all his clothes on. He doesn’t seem all that upset anymore - I’m the one that’s freaking out now. I’m still holding him and rocking and whispering nonsense. “Shhh. It’s gonna be okay, Justin. It’s okay. . . . .”

He touches my cheek with his hand, lightly tracing my jawline and stroking his thumb across my lips to quiet me. He’s comforting me now? If I don't get a grip, I'm gonna be crying in about thirty seconds. I take a deep breath, reach up to shut off the water and stand up. Justin follows suit. I start to help him out of the soggy clothes, letting them drop to the tiles below. Then I pull a towel off the warming rack and carefully dry both of us off. 

I'm exhausted, but Justin won't come back to bed until he's picked up the wet clothes, deposited them in the hamper and hung the towels back on the rack. Then he compliantly follows me back to the bedroom and gets in bed when I pull back the covers for him. I crawl in too, curling myself around his back and holding him tightly, as if my feeble arms can protect us both from the demons that are haunting us. 

The door buzzer wakes me hours later. Justin is still asleep - after last night's nightmare, at least he slept quietly for the rest of the night. I think his fever has broken too, since his skin feels much cooler this morning.

Our visitors turn out to be Lindsey and Gus, bearing a shopping bag full of breakfast supplies. And, even better, coffee. 

"Morning, Bri," Lindsey greets me with a kiss on the cheek. "Gus and I came to check on your patient and see how he was doing. But, from the looks of you, maybe I was worrying about the wrong boy."

"It was a long night. Thank you for the coffee." I respond.

"And bagels. Here, take Gus and I'll get everything set up," Lindsey says, handing me a squirming three year old while she starts to putter in the kitchen. Gus has way too much energy for me this morning though so I quickly give up and put him down. I sit with my coffee and watch the tyke running around investigating every nook and cranny.

"So, why was it such a long night - or don't I want to know?" Lindz teases, waggling her brows in my direction.

"I wish it had been something you wouldn't want to hear about. Unfortunately, I was kept awake by the kid's nightmares," I admit. "I think I'm in way over my head, Lindz."

"I'm sure you're doing fine, Brian," Lindsey assures me. "I'm proud of you, you know. Trying to help this kid - nobody's sure why you're doing it, but it's a good thing."

"Fuck if I know why either, Lindz."

"Daddy, there's a boy named Jus'n in your bed. I told him we brought you guys breakfast and he said that was good because he's hungry. Can I take a bagel to him, Mommy?" Gus prattles as he runs back into the kitchen. 

"No, sweetie. Bagels are too messy to eat in bed," Lindsey answers. "Why don't you go tell Justin to come join us here and we'll all eat together in the kitchen."

"Okay. Be right back. Daddy, don't eat the sprinkle donut - I picked that one out special for me." Gus warns me as he runs back towards the bedroom.

"I promise not to eat your donut, Sonny Boy," I holler after the rapidly retreating small figure.

Five minutes later, Gus comes back, leading a bemused Justin by the hand. Gus is apparently telling Justin about his preschool class at the GLC. The whole class is working on an art project that they will auction off at the center's art show next week. 

"So we each get to put our hand prints on a tile and we get to decorate them too to make them look like flowers or animals or other stuff," Gus explains. "Then this guy that works at a 'scramic' store is gonna fire them - that doesn't mean he's gonna shoot at em with a gun, you know, it means he's gonna put all the tiles in a big oven and cook em - he 'sprained it all to us and we got to go to his store and look at the oven. I think it's called a 'kill 'em'."

"It's called a kiln," Justin corrects the babbling child.

"Yeah - that's right. A killen. I 'member, now. Anyway, after they're fired then Ms. Clark is gonna frame them all, special like and when its all done we're gonna sell it and use the money to build a new swing set for the playground. I can't wait. Do you like to swing?"

"Swings are okay, I guess," Justin answers as if he's seriously contemplating the question.

"Breakfast is ready, Gus. Come wash your hands and leave Justin be for a while so he can eat, too," Lindsey directs. "Sorry about that. I'm Lindsey, by the way," Lindz introduces herself to Justin, offering to shake his hand, but he just stands looking at her with that almost perpetually confused look on his face. 

Lindz glances at me, not sure if she's done something wrong. I shrug. I don't know what to tell her since I still haven't figured the boy out either. 

"Mommy, Jus'n's an artist like you," Gus explains as he leads Justin to a stool at the kitchen island and proceeds to tuck into the bagels Lindz places in front of him. "He likes to draw mostly, he said. "I told him you like to paint. He said he's never got to paint much 'cause his Daddy thought it was too messy. You wouldn't mind if me and Jus'n painted though, would you Daddy? We'd be real careful and cover the floor so we wouldn't get the paint everywhere. Would it be okay, Daddy?"

"I suppose so, Sonny Boy. But not today, okay. Justin hasnt been feeling too well lately and the doctor said he needs to get a lot of rest. So, let's plan on painting another day," I try to explain, letting Justin have a way out in case he really doesn't want to paint with Gus and was just humoring him. 

"Okay. I 'member when I was sick once and I had to stay in bed for two whole days. Don't worry, Jus'n, Daddy will take good care of you. When I was sick he brought me a new coloring book and he even stayed and read me a story. Did he read you a story last night?" Gus inquires.

"No. I was too tired last night for a story, Gus," Justin answers, smiling at Gus, and shocking me since this is the most words I've heard him say in one sentence yet.

 

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

 

I wake up to find this cute little boy jumping on the bed. When he sees that I'm awake, he plops down in front of me sitting cross legged and tells me his name is 'Gus'. Then he asks me about a million questions in less than five minutes, never waiting for me to actually respond. The only thing he does want to know is my name and if I want a bagel - apparently he's here with his mother and they brought breakfast. I tell him my name and that, yes, I'm very hungry and I would love a bagel. 

Then he leaps off the bed and disappears without saying anything further.

By the time he comes back, I'm up and dressed. Gus holds my hand and pulls me after him towards the kitchen. He's busy telling me about an art project his class is doing. I tell him I like art too. He says his mother likes to paint. I tell him that I draw - I used to like to paint but I had to stop because my father didn't like all the mess. 

Gus is a sweet kid. He's easy to talk to - kids always seem easier to talk to than adults for some reason. I think it's because they don't have as many preconceptions.

It really surprises me that Brian has a kid, though. Gus' mother, Lindsey, seems nice but I just can't see her and Brian together. I wonder if they were married. They seem to be too good of friends to have ever been married, though. I just don't get it - I can't see Brian with a wife and a kid. 

Lindsey fixes me a bagel and I'm really hungry. I eat it right then even though I feel uncomfortable eating with all these strangers around. Gus eats only half his bagel, then offers the rest to me. 

I'm not sure I should take it. My father would have been angry if I ever left any food on my plate. You were supposed to eat what you were given and be thankful you got anything at all. If you didn't eat what you were given in my house, you probably wouldn't get anything at all to eat the next meal. Gus doesn't seem worried about not finishing his food though, so maybe it's okay. I try to watch Brian out of the corner of my eye to see if it looks like he would mind. I would really like more food but I just don't dare accept - I don't want to get Gus in trouble.

Lindsey is watching me as I sit there thinking about all this. She doesn't say anything to me though. Gus is still talking and talking. Neither Brian nor Lindsey seem to mind Gus talking during the meal. They don't even seem upset when he occasionally interrupts one of them. I'm not used to this kind of situation at all - it makes me uncomfortable but it would be rude to ask to leave so I just sit and wait. 

"Justin, would you like another bagel?" Lindsey asks after awhile. "There's plenty. If you want more, just help yourself."

Damn. Should I take another bagel? She offered it, but I don't know. Why is she being nice to me? What am I supposed to do here?  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~  
Something is obviously bothering Justin. His easy manner, relaxed and talking comfortably with Gus, is gone all of the sudden. He's biting at his lip - a sign I've already come to understand means that he's confused or upset by something. What the fuck could be so confusing about eating breakfast, though?

Gus is the one who breaks the tension. He clambers down off the kitchen stool, walks around the island and takes the little white paper bag which holds his special sprinkle donut around to Justin. Gus puts the bag on the counter in front of the confused blond. 

"Here, Jus'n. You can have my sprinkle donut." Gus offers with his typical outgoing confidence.

Justin looks like he's moving into panic mode and I'm on the verge of intervening - Gus made a really huge gesture here and I don't want him to get hurt by Justin refusing. But I guess my concern is overblown since Gus handles everything with perfect aplomb.

"It's okay, Jus'n. You don't need to be scared. It's okay with you if Jus'n eats the donut, Daddy, isnt it?" Gus looks to me for approval, even though I'm not sure why.

"It's fine with me, Sonny Boy. But isn't that your special donut that you picked out just for you? Why are you giving it to Justin?"

"Because Jus'n is sad. I don't want him to be sad. Eating this pretty sprinkle donut would make me happy, so I want him to eat it instead and then he'll be happy." Perfect three year old logic. 

"That's very sweet of you, honey. You're being very generous," Lindsey offers the boy her support. "Daddy and I both think it's okay for Justin to have the donut. Go ahead, Justin. Please. You don't want to disappoint Gus, do you?"

Justin smiles shyly at Gus and slowly reaches for the donut. It's like he's still not sure if it's okay to eat it. What does he think - someone will get angry at him for eating a fucking donut. That seems to be what Gus thinks, though.

"Come here, Sonny Boy," I hold out my arms for the boy, who happily jumps into them, all smiles and confidence over his coup with the donut. "It was very nice of you to give your donut to Justin, Gus. That was such a kind, generous thing for you to do. I think you deserve a special reward for being such a good kid, don't you? What do you want, Sonny Boy, for your reward?"

"Brian, you don't have to . . . " Lindsey starts to intervene.

"I know I don't, but I want to Lindz. Come on, Mom. Let me spoil the kid a little," I beg.

"Fine. You do realize, Brian, that you are the biggest pushover ever, right?" Lindsey admonishes.

"I'm NOT a pushover. I'm a doting father. It's completely different, Lindz," I correct her. "So, Sonny Boy, how about we all go down to the Diner for second breakfast and you can get a replacement donut AND a milkshake to go with it?"

"Yea! Come on, Jus'n. Do you know about second breakfast? I love second breakfast - Gramma Deb always makes me a 'Stachio milkshake. She's kinda silly, but she's really nice too. You'll like her. Come on, Dad. You gotta get dressed so we can go. Come on!"

Thank you Gus. Maybe I need to take 'Justin lessons' from you. You apparently understand more about this kid than your Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all like the Gus/Jus interaction? Reviews are greatly appreciated - I love to get feed back on how I'm doing. TAG.


	7. Misconception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More clues about why Justin is acting the way he is. Unfortunately, it all leads to some surprising mistakes on the parts of both boys. Hope you enjoy. TAG

Chapter 7 - Misconception.

Misconception: A view or opinion that is incorrect because based on faulty thinking or understanding.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I peek into the rearview mirror at Gus and Justin, sitting together in the back seat of the Jeep, quietly conversing. I'm amazed at how easily they get along. Justin must be approaching 50 words being spoken at this point. Seeing him smiling, relaxed and almost happy makes me feel content. I catch Lindsey using the vanity mirror on the flip side of the passenger sun visor to do the same and we share a secret smile watching 'our boys'. 

When we pull up to the Diner, I have a sudden inspiration, and quickly kneel down next to Gus so I can whisper my request into his ear.

"Sonny Boy, I need you to do me a favor," I whisper. "You know how Justin is a little shy, right? Well, I don't want your Gramma Deb or the guys to frighten him by being all noisy or trying to hug him and all talk to him at once. You know what I mean?"

Gus nods his head vigorously - even though he's not quite four yet, he's more than aware of how loud and boisterous the family can be. 

"So, Gus, do you think you can run into the Diner, quick-like, before I bring Justin in and ask Gramma Deb and the others to tone it down a bit until Justin's a little more used to everybody?"

"Sure, Dad. I can do that." Gus asserts, proud of his special mission. "Jus'n, you wait here with Dad for a minute. I gotta go do something. But I'll be right back, okay."

Gus promptly marches away towards the Diner's front door, Lindsey looking at me questioningly as she follows in his wake. I chuckle quietly at the sight, congratulating myself on my brilliance. If I'd gone in there and tried to tell Deb or Em to back off until the kid had acclimatized, they would have scoffed at me, thinking I was being condescending or judgmental. But if Gus asks them the same thing, they'll just think he's being adorable and they'll 'play along' to humor the boy. 

I pull Justin over to me where I'm leaning against the side of the Jeep. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, not thinking about the surge of affection that's come over me, but just wanting to feel him close. His pliant, smaller body easily fits itself into my side and we stand together like that, comfortably, waiting for Gus to return.

"Okay, Jus'n, you can come in now," Gus directs us. "I told Gramma Deb about how I gave you my donut, and she said that Daddy was right and I def'nly should get a special reward. She's making me a banana root beer float, she said. I never had a floating banana before but she said I'd like it, so I guess I'll try it. Do you want one too, Jus'n? Daddy, can Jus'n have a floating banana beer, too?"

"Of course, Sonny Boy. Both you and Justin can have whatever you want, as long as it's okay with your moms." I smile at my boy indulgently, watching as he grabs Justin's hand and tows him into the restaurant. 

Gus has done a really good job at preparing the rest of the family too. As we enter and head to the back booth nobody has jumped up to greet us or anything. The most we're subjected to are a few nods and waves. And, we make it all the way to the booth and are seated before Deb even approaches. 

"Brian. Sunshine. How are you boys doing this morning?" Deb asks, pulling out her order pad, fishing a pen out of her wig and cracking her gum as she nears our booth. "You look a lot better than you did the other day, Sunshine. So what can I get you this morning? Gus said you were interested in second breakfast?"

I'm not ready to deal with the whole range of Justin's food issues again this morning so I proceed to take control of the breakfast ordering. I tell Deb to bring him a short stack of pancakes, a side of bacon and another of fruit, some orange juice and a coffee. I figure I'll just tell him to eat what I get him for now instead of dealing with all the problems that seem to arise when he's asked what he wants. The worst thing that can happen is that he'll be too full. 

I order myself an egg white omelette and wait while Lindz and Gus order more for themselves. Maybe if Justin sees that there's plenty of food available, he'll get over his insecurities. Since he doesn't object to what I've ordered, and he's not doing that lip biting thing, it must be okay. 

Once Deb's done taking our order and moves away, Emmett and Ted come over to say hello. I'm impressed at Em's restraint - he doesn't run up and hug anyone, calling them 'Sweetie' or 'Baby'. He simply says hi, asks how Justin is feeling and says how much better he looks. Like I said, incredibly restrained. Ted, being the through and through accountant that he is, never has problems with restraint. After they've each said their piece, they return to their seats at the counter.

Wow, I'm utterly amazed at how well behaved the family is being and I give Gus a thumbs up sign to let him know he did a great job. Gus grins and gives me a return thumbs up. He's such an amazing kid - I really never thought I'd enjoy being a Dad, but then again I never knew there were kids like Gus. 

I catch Justin looking at Gus and at me. His expression is hard to read. His eyebrows are drawn together and his forehead wrinkled. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly as if in disbelief or disapproval? With my right hand I reach up to stroke away that little frown and then I rest my hand back on his thigh, squeezing once in reassurance. The frown goes, but the worry lines on his forehead never disappear completely. I wish I could make them go too.

"Daddy, I gotta use the potty," Gus interrupts my moment of lesbionic contemplation, thank goodness.

"Okay, Sonny Boy. Let's go then," I say, smiling at the little boy, then I lean over and leave a light kiss on Justin's temple. "Be right back, Sunshine."

I do realize as I get up to follow Gus, just how silly and sentimental that little gesture is, but I refuse to give the staring Debbie and Emmett the satisfaction of looking at all ashamed.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian's lips touched my face. He kissed me. In front of all these people - his friends and family - he kissed me.

Brian had kissed me and, after he left, even though it felt so juvenile, I couldn't help it - I smiled - a big silly, goofy grin. It was like, with that one little kiss He'd told everyone around us that I was His. I'd never felt like this before - I couldn't even name the emotions that small gesture brought out in me, but if I had to guess, I'd say maybe I was feeling happy.

I vaguely recall that Brian might have kissed me briefly both back at the hospital and during the night at His loft when he was trying to wake me from my nightmares. But this is different. This was public, this was possessive, this was . . . painful, almost. 

I don't recall anyone ever kissing me before. Not my mother. Definitely not my father. Not even a friend - not that I'd ever really had a friend after my father forbid me to see Daphne. There had never really been anyone in my life who would want to kiss me, other than the occasional John - but I never let a John kiss me - it was one of my rules. 

Having Brian kiss me now suddenly made the rest of my life feel so . . . bleak. I'd never really contemplated it that way before, but then again, before now I'd never really had much to compare it with. But after watching Brian with Gus and his friends, and remembering all the little touches and smiles Brian had given me, I was starting to realize that maybe there should have been more?

I wish that I hadn't started thinking about that now. Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore. I look down at my plate and see there is still food left, but I no longer think I can eat. Would Brian be angry though if I wasted all this food? What am I going to do? I want Brian to like me - I want him to kiss me like that again - but now he'll be angry at me for wasting food. The more I try to figure out a solution, the more upset I get and the less I feel like eating.

I'm still sitting there worrying and losing that almost happy feeling when Gus comes running back out from the toilet. He starts to climb onto the bench across from me, but when he looks in my direction, he stops, comes around to my side of the booth, crawls over to me and puts his small, soft, warm arms around my neck. He squeezes once, as hard as his little arms can do it. 

"It's okay Jus'n. You don't have to eat anymore if you don't want to. Sometimes I can't eat all my food either," Gus whispers to me, but I'm still unsure, and I glance towards the doorway where Brian has just appeared. "Daddy never gets mad at me when I don't finish. Sometimes he even let's me put it into a box and take it home to eat later. Just ask him Jus'n. He won’t be mad, really."

"Problems, Sunshine?" Brian asks as he nears the booth and sees Gus talking to me. 

"Daddy, Jus'n can't eat anymore. Is it okay if he takes the rest home for later?" Gus asks on my behalf.

"If you don't want any more, you don't have to eat it, Justin. I wouldn't bother taking it home though. Pancakes don't keep well, you know. Just leave it," Brian answers, picking Gus up so he can slide back into the booth next to me. 

Brian is smiling at me and he rests his arm around my shoulders. I love how he is constantly touching me. I like his warm, strong hands. I remember that he kissed me and I feel better again. I think maybe it's okay if I don't eat any more.

"Are you feeling okay, Sunshine?" Brian is looking at me with concerned eyes. "You're probably getting tired. We better get you home for a nap. Lindz, you and Gus okay from here? I think I need to get Justin back home."

"Sure, Bri. I'll call Mel to pick us up," Lindsey says. "You take care, Justin. Get lots of rest so you can get better. Hey, Bri, if Justin's feeling up to it, why don't the two of you come over to the house for dinner tomorrow night? I think Gus would love to spend some more time with his new friend."

"Yes! Please, Jus'n! Please, Daddy? Please." Gus pleads.

"Sounds good to me, Gus." Brian gives in easily. "As long as Justin is feeling well enough. But right now, I think Justin needs to get home and get some rest. Come on, Sunshine. Give me a hug goodbye, Sonny Boy."

As Brian heads towards the cash register to pay for our breakfast, I overhear Emmett and his friend talking quietly. "That's something I never thought I'd see - Brian Kinney, acting all domesticated? Can you believe it?" Emmett comments.

"I give it a week, tops," Ted replies. "Then Brian will be back to usual, fucking every guy that moves."

"I don't know, Teddy. I've never seen Brian acting like that - being all protective and all. It’s so sweet."

"Oh, come on Em," Ted disagreed. "You gotta admit the kid is hot. With that cute little bubble butt and those gorgeous big baby blues? I'm sure Brian's just enjoying having his own personal in-home hustler for the time being. I'm not saying Brian's not doing a good thing taking care of the kid, and all, but I just don't see this lasting. Once the kid is feeling better, Brian's going to eventually get bored and he'll be back to the 'Fuck-em-all' Brian Kinney we all know and feel ambivalent about."

"You're probably right, Teddy. But, still, I've never seen Brian acting like this . . . " Emmett replied, turning as he said it to look around in my direction, and belatedly realizing that I'd been standing right behind them this whole time.

"Justin, baby, I didn't know you were there. You know we didn't . . . " Emmett started to explain but was interrupted by Brian returning to see what had held me up.

"Ready, Sunshine?" Brian says, taking my hand in His larger one. "Oh, hey guys. We gotta get going. But that reminds me, Honeycutt, if you're not busy this afternoon, I'd like to employ your personal shopper skills."

"Don't call me Honeycutt, Bri. But, I'm not busy and you know how I love to shop, so I'm yours for hire if you need me. I can come by the loft later, if you want, and you can give me my marching orders."

"Sounds great, Honeycutt. Come by around 2:00. Talk to you later, Theodore." Brian responds then guides me towards the exit.

Brian seems to be in a good mood as we get in the Jeep and drive back towards His loft. He keeps looking over at me and smiling. I'm not sure why. I'm beginning to wonder. 

"So, you'll talk to Gus, but not to me, huh Sunshine? What's with that," Brian teases.

"Gus is a sweet kid," I smile, remembering some of the funny things he'd said to me this morning.

"Yeah. He's really great," Brian is obviously pleased by my praise of his son.

I have so many thoughts rolling around in my head at this point that I'm quiet for a long time. Brian seems amused by something - I hear Him chucking and look over to see Him smiling at me.

"I think I'm starting to figure you out, Sunshine. When you get quiet, staring off into space and chewing at your lip like that, it means you're worrying about something. Tell me, what's eating at you now?" Brian prods me.

Which of the whirling questions in my head should I start with, I wonder?

"What?" Brian keeps on at me. "Come on, Justin. What is it?"

"Gus . . . Umm . . You and Lindsey?"

"Ohhh. No no no - there's no 'Me and Lindsey'. I'm 100% fag, Sunshine," Brian says, laughing aloud.

"But, Gus?"

"Lindz and I have been friends since college," Brian explains. "When she and her partner, Melanie, decided a few years ago that they wanted a kid, I agreed to help out with a little sperm donation. That's all. They are Gus' primary parents. I just put in the occasional unscheduled cameo appearance."

That explained a lot. Both about the relationship between Him and Lindsey and a little about what Ted and Emmett had said. It did raise even more questions about other stuff, though. I would have asked a few more questions if we weren't already at the loft by this point. I was sort of out of time, I guess.

"If you're tired, you're welcome to go back to bed. Or, you can watch television or a movie," Brian directs when we get inside, pointing me toward the big screen TV in the far corner as He heads toward the desk. "Make yourself at home, Sunshine. I'm going to check my email and make sure there's nothing critical at work."

I sit on the couch but I don't turn on the television. I'm still mulling over what I heard at the Diner. What Ted and Em were saying makes sense to me. Especially now that I'm clear in my head about Brian and Lindsey.

I admit that I'd been a bit thrown by meeting Lindz and Gus this morning. The thought that Brian was straight or bi or whatever had confused me. I had begun to think that Brian had brought me here to his home for some reason other than the obvious. I know now that was silly of me, but He had been giving me some really mixed signals, you know. I mean, the kiss earlier and telling me last night that he just wanted to help me get better. But once I knew for sure He was gay, the stuff Ted was saying made more sense. 

I'm clear again in my mind why I'm here. Brian was truly being very nice to me. But I'm feeling much better and I guess that means I'm running out of time. I'd better start making myself useful. It was the least I could do after all He'd done for me. 

Time to get to work, I decide.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I'm sitting at my computer, answering emails and doing some research on the Internet, when I look up and see Justin standing in front of me stripped down to his briefs.

He's doing that thing where he won't look at me directly and he's biting his lip again. He's so thin I can see each and every bone in his body. But, he has a wiry strength to him at the same time. His beautiful pale skin is flushed with a tinge of red, as if he's excited or embarrassed about something. I wasn't prepared for this vision, and I'm having trouble controlling my reaction to the tempting sight In front of me. 

"Justin? Umm. What's wrong?" I manage to ask, shifting in my chair to relieve the suddenly uncomfortable tightness in my pants.

"Do you want to fuck me now?" Justin offers, matter-of-factly.

I was definitely not expecting that. And here I thought I was starting to understand him a little. Nope. I'm completely lost again.


	8. Perception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin is finally provoked into starting to communicate enough that Brian begins to understand a little bit better. Can Brian convince Justin to trust in him enough to let him help? Major angst alert and totally OOC Brian warnings - Just my little fantasy about caring, protective Brian for all of you angsty die-hards. Hope you enjoy. TAG

Chapter 8 - Perception.

Perception: The process of becoming aware of something through the use of one’s senses.

~~*~~

"Do you want to fuck me now?" Justin asks, matter-of-factly."

~~*~~  
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

This is a trick question, right? I mean, look at the beautiful boy standing here in front of me in nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. Of course I want to fuck him. He's gorgeous - a little on the thin side for me, but beautiful nonetheless. I've wanted to fuck him pretty much ever since the first time I saw him at the hospital. But, as I'm coming to expect with Justin, I get the distinct impression that there's a lot more to this question than appears on the surface. 

Instead of answering right away, I get up from my seat at the desk and move over to the sofa. 

"Justin, why don't you come over here," I suggest, patting at the sofa cushion next to me.

Justin saunters over towards me, wiggling his ass rather provocatively. Then he sits next to me, his body half turned, his thigh rubbing against mine as he sits. He gives me a simpering little smile that I really don't like much. Something about this is so wrong. His attempts to be seductive are actually turning me off - although I'm not sure why.

"Justin, I really appreciate the offer, and I do find you incredibly hot. But, um, can I ask why you're offering right now? You're still sick and . . . ". I just know I'm missing something - his face visibly falls the more I speak. "Justin, please don't get upset and don't go into that shell of yours. Just tell me why you asked me to fuck you right then. I don't understand and I don't want to hurt your feelings but . . . What the fuck, Justin? What the fuck am I missing here?"

"You don't want me?" Justin says, his voice hushed.

"God, Justin. This has nothing to do with whether or not I want you. There's something more going on here that I don't understand." I stop myself when Justin starts to pull his body away from me, retreating to the far end of the sofa. "Justin, stop moving away from me."

My more forceful, direct and simpler demand seems to have finally gotten through to him - Justin stops moving and just sits compliantly on the couch as if waiting for further directions. Okay, I think, at least I have his attention. Now, I just need to figure out the right questions to ask to get to the answers I need. Easier said than done, though.

So, what do I need to ask him? Asking him 'why' questions doesn't seem to work - maybe because the questions are too open-ended. I need to start with questions that have simpler, more direct answers, I think. 

"Justin, do YOU want to have sex right now?" I start off with what I hope is an easy question, but one I'm not sure of the answer to, since I get a weird feeling that, while he's offering to fuck, it's not what he really wants.

Justin shrugs, still not looking at me.

"Well, I've definitely had more enthusiastic lovers, Sunshine." Now where do I go? So, if he's not particularly in the mood but is making the offer, does he think I want this? "Justin, did you think that I wanted sex from you?"

A nod and a shrug. 

"Why did you think that?" I add.

Nothing. Shit, once again the question was too broad. Fuck, why is this so hard? No more 'why' questions? 

"Justin, is your throat still sore?"

A nod.

"Do you still feel tired and achy?"

Another nod.

"So, you ARE still feeling Ill?"

A nod again.

He's starting to squirm like he will bolt any time, but I need to work through this a bit more. "Please, just sit still," I order as I stand and begin to pace while I think. "I need to work through this and I need you to sit and wait until I'm ready. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Justin answers, his tone dispirited.

He admittedly still feels ill. He's not really into jumping my bones. But, he thinks I want sex so he's willing to offer himself up just like that? Skipping over just what it was about me sitting at my computer that made him think I needed to fuck him right then, what is it that's causing him to react like this? And when I don't take him up on the offer, why is his response to act almost sad. What did he say - he was upset that I didn't want him? 

Then I finally connect what he just said about me not wanting him with what he said last night about him being nothing - being trash. Shit, this isn't about any physical attraction between the two of us - this is about Justin being worried he isn't wanted, that I'll think he's just trash.

Something must have happened to make him think I wouldn't want him here unless he was willing to put out? What it was, I had no idea - there really didn't seem to have been anything that occurred this morning to have brought this on. But that was irrelevant. I needed to address the underlying insecurity first. This was just like when he disappeared yesterday morning - I had to make sure he knew I wanted him to be here with me and that I didn't have any ulterior motives as to why. 

"I need you to understand one thing, Justin," I say, sitting back down on the sofa next to him and capturing his hand in mine. "I WANT you to stay here with me at the loft. I told you before, I want you here so that I'll know you are safe and that you'll have someplace to live, at least until you are well again. I don't expect you to clean up or have sex with me or anything else in exchange for being here, Justin. I just want you to stay. I want you to get well."

"If anything else happens between us - and I'm not saying I wouldn't like that, Justin - But I'd only want that if we BOTH felt the same attraction, the same desire. I don't want you to feel obligated to have sex with me. That's not me - I'm not in the habit of hiring hustlers for sex. Not that I have anything against hustlers, either, it's just that I'd rather my partners want to be with me, not just that they want my money."

"Does any of this make sense to you, Sunshine?" I ask, afraid I might have lost him again since he's diligently staring at the couch cushion and I can't tell if he's even listening.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

What the fuck? He doesn't want to fuck me? What the hell DOES He want? I've been here two days now. He and His friends both confirmed what I'd already known - that He's gay. He told me I have to stay here until he says. But if He doesn't want to fuck, then what the hell else does He think he's going to get from me? I don't do a lot of the kink some of the other street boys will do - I'm not going to let him whip me or bareback me or any shit like that. So what does this guy think? 

Why does this man cause me to react the way he does? I don't want to let him get to me this way. I don't want to feel these feelings he keeps bringing out in me. This morning he made me feel almost happy when he kissed me. Then he made me feel all connected to him with all that father/son bonding crap with Gus. Now I feel angry. And a little bit rejected. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to feel. 

It's not easy out there - fuck, it's not easy anywhere, but especially on the streets - and that numb feeling is one of the only ways I know of to protect myself. Now this guy comes along and after only two days he's threatening to break apart the numb that I've worked so hard to build up. Before Brian, the worst thing I occasionally felt was embarrassment over how pathetic and dirty I'd become and even that was fading. Now I'm feeling bad and confused and . . .

Fuck this. Fuck it all. I'm outta here. I don't care what the fuck Brian wants. I can't do this. If I stay here much longer I'll be useless once I'm turned back out to the streets. I have to get out of here, NOW.

I jerk my hand out of His grasp and start to put on the clothing I just took off which is still sitting folded on the coffee table. Then I remember that these aren't really even my clothes - mine are off somewhere being 'washed'. Well, fuck it, I'm not leaving here naked - if He's gonna take my real clothes, then I have no choice but to wear these. 

Once I'm dressed, I run back to the dresser in the bedroom and gather all my stuff that Brian took out of my other clothes earlier. When Brian sees me pocketing my wallet and other personal stuff he grabs my hands, ostensibly to stop me, but I'm not going to let him. I tear my hands out of his grip.

"Let go of me, right now," I hear myself scream at Him. "You can't keep me here against my will. You can't force me to stay. You're not my father."

That almost gets to him. He stops and just stares at me for a time, while I search for my jacket. But He's fast and gets between me and the door. 

"Justin, I'm not letting you leave," Brian says, sounding a little panicky.

"Like hell you're not. I don't take orders from you or anyone else for that matter. Get the hell outta my way, Brian."

"No. I'm not moving until you agree to sit down and actually talk to me, Justin." Brian is trying again to grab my hands and pull me back to the couch. "You don't get to just storm out of here, all fucking angry, without explaining to me why you're leaving again. Especially after you promised me yesterday you wouldn't leave."

All this anger that I don't even know I have just boils up at this point. I give up trying to hold it back and let it all out. I haven't been this angry feeling in a long, long time. I've NEVER let it all out like this. 

"Why the hell am I here, Brian? I'm a hustler. It's what I do to make enough money to stay alive. But you apparently don't want to fuck me. So I don't understand what I'm doing here. I don't do any other kinky shit. So, if you don't want to fuck me there's no reason for me to stay."

"I don't want you here just to fuck you, Justin. I can find hustlers who don't have the beginnings of pneumonia. I can also find plenty of tricks to fuck that I don't have to pay. I didn't bring you here because you were a hustler or because I needed to fuck you. I brought you here because I . . . "

"Because you what? You're gay. According to your friends you normally fuck everything that moves. So if you don't want to fuck me then what? You brought me here because you pity me - poor little street boy? You think if you take pity on the poor sick kid then what - it'll make up for everything else shitty you've ever done in your life? Well fuck you. I'm not some charity project. I don't need all your touchy-feely crap. I don't want to be saved. I don't want you to take care of me. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, thank you very much."

"It's not pity. I don't do pity, it makes my dick soft,” Brian answers, not quite yelling but pretty angry nonetheless. “I don't know what it is. But I don't want you to leave. And, for your information, I do want to fuck you, It's just that that isn't all I want. And I don't want to fuck you just because you feel obligated. I don't particularly want to be somebody's pity fuck either, Sunshine. If you don't WANT me then I'm not going to fuck you."

"Whatever. I'm outta here. Thanks for everything. See ya." I say as I head for the door again. 

"You're not leaving, Justin," Brian jumps up and grabs my arm. "You're still too sick to be out there in the cold. You'll fucking get pneumonia and die, you stupid twat."

"Let me go!" I try to pull out of his grip but he's too strong.

"No. I said you're not leaving. Not like this."

"Let me go. You can't keep me here. Please. Just let me go." I'm yelling at Him but he won't let me go, damn it, and I feel tears starting to pool in the corners of my eyes. "Let me go. Let me GO! You can't keep me here. Please. Please. Please, please, please."

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Justin collapses in a heap on the floor by the door. A second ago he was standing there larger than life, arguing with me, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was finally talking - well, yelling, but at least finally communicating. And then, it all changed when I tried to keep him from leaving. What the fuck happened?

Now he's huddled into himself in a little ball on the floor, rocking back and forth, whimpering, sobbing and mumbling incoherently. I liked the screaming, angry Justin better. That kid I understand. This kid scares me. 

"Please don't. I promise I won't do it again. I promise. Please, don't lock me in there again. Please, please, please. Let me out, please." I can just barely make out what he's saying. 

"Justin. Shhh." I kneel next to him and scoop him into my arms, feeling the endless trembling ripping at his compact frame. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, Sunshine. It's okay. I won't keep you here if you need to leave, but just calm down, okay. Shhh."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it, dad. Please let me out. I'm so hungry. I'll be good, I promise. . . . "

Fuck. It was his fucking father that did this to him? He's crying now and pleading for his father to let him go. The goddamned fucker. It sounds like he locked him up and starved him on a regular basis. I guess there were worse parents out there than Jack and Joanie. 

I want to do something to help him, to make this stop, but what? Justin isn't really even aware of what's going on around him. It's like he's lost in his horrible memories. I feel like shit for bringing this on. I didn't mean to trigger this. I had no idea. So what the fuck do I do?

I always do my best work in my bed, right? I pick the boy up and carry him to the bedroom, depositing him in the center so I can crawl up next to him and wrap the duvet around him. Then I just sit there with him, holding him, rocking and waiting until he quiets. It seems to take a very long time.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian. 

His arms are around me again. I was ready to leave. I'd made up my mind to leave here so I could get away from this temptation. I don't need to deal with Him. I don't want to have to deal with the way He makes me feel. God, I don't want to deal with any of this. Why is He doing this to me. I don't want to have to deal with messy, weak emotions and that's what happens when I'm around Brian. 

"My father's name was Jack. The bastard died a couple years ago - good riddance," Brian is speaking directly into my ear, his mouth so close against the side of my face that I can feel the vibrations from his soft, deep voice on my skin. "When I was a kid, he used to drink a lot and he would get angry at just about anything. I was usually the easiest target for his anger."

"My mom said it wasn't his fault - he just had a bad temper. She said that was the way the Lord made him and that we should forgive him. Of course he wasn't beating the crap out of her on a weekly basis. I, on the other hand, didn't feel real forgiving most Saturday nights."

“I was lucky though. I met Mikey when I was about fourteen. I could always escape to his house when my dad was being especially horrid or when my mother, Ste. Joan, was being overly judgmental or frigid. Debbie was more a mother to me than Joan. She would patch me up when I got hurt, take care of me when I was sick, hug me when I was sad - although I made her swear on Michael's head that she would never tell anyone about those times. And, Michael was like a brother to me. We looked out for each other. We were always there for one another, no matter what. It was like having a real family."

"I get the feeling you didn't have anywhere to escape to, though, did you, Sunshine? Did you have any friends or family who could have helped you?"

He understands. Shit. That's going to make it even harder to pull myself away from here. I don't want to let him in - it always hurt more if you let someone get close. When they eventually disappear or are ripped out of your life, it's that much harder to patch up the hole they leave when you've let them get close.

"Watching you - seeing you in pain - hurts me, Justin. I don't have a fucking clue why. I'm not the kind of person to get involved in other people's problems. Not ever. I don't usually get involved with anyone, in any way, because I don't want to deal with all the shit that entails. Mikey and Lindsey are pretty much my only friends. Other than that, well, maybe there are a few others that come close to being friends, but not many."

"So, what I'm saying, Justin, is that I don't really know why I feel this way right now. But I do - I feel responsible for you. I want to help you. I want to be there for you when you don't have anyone else. I WANT to take care of you."

"I know you don't need me - that you're perfectly capable of fending for yourself. And, it's NOT pity. I've been there myself - I know how much pity, especially from strangers, even well meaning strangers, can grate on you. But, I do know that it was easier for me when I had people I could trust and depend on like Deb and Vic and Michael."

"I could be that person for you, if you'd let me, Justin. I'll try not to ask too much of you. But, if you let me, I can help you. I can be there when you need someone to listen or patch you up or just be there when you need someone."

"What about when you disappear? Who will patch up that hole?" I can't help asking, fighting against the happy sounding lies he's trying to sell me."

"I won't disappear, Justin. I will never just disappear. If you let me in, I promise to stay," Brian whispers, the sincerity in his voice almost palpable. "I never make promises I'm not willing to keep, Justin. So, you should know that if I say I won't disappear on you, you can count on me."

"That's not what your friends think. They're convinced that you're gonna get tired of your ‘personal in-home hustler’ within a week and then you'll be dumping me back on the streets where you found me so you can return to fucking as usual," I can't help but throw this back in His face, although seeing His hurt expression when I say it makes me instantly regret my words.

"So, that's what this is all about? Who the fuck told you that?" Brian gets so angry, so rapidly, that I'm scared again and I pull the blanket further over myself so I don't have to look at his red face and angry eyes.

Sorry, Sunshine," he instantly regrets his outburst and I watch, amazed, as he visibly reins back his temper. "Whoever told you that was wrong, though. You know better than anyone that I didn't bring you here as my personal rent boy - if I had, I wouldn't have turned you down earlier," he says with a not-quite-grin."

"Plus, no matter what they think my motives are, if you were to ask anyone who knows me, they would tell you that I never make promises lightly and I never break a promise, no matter what it costs me. I lived through my family breaking too many promises to me as a child - I will never willingly break a promise to someone else, Sunshine. NEVER."

“I can't do this, Brian,” I finally admit to him. “If I stay here much longer I'll be useless once I'm back out on the streets. It’s too hard to turn it all off when I go back. I can’t have feelings out there - it hurts too much. I’d been better off just leaving now. Please let me just go.”

“Then don’t go back. Stay here, Justin,” Brian is pleading with me. “Or, if you can’t or don’t want to stay here, we can find you someplace else, but don’t go back out there alone. If something happened to you - if you got sick or hurt - it would kill me.”

God how I wish I could believe Him. I feel so comfortable here in his home, in his arms. The wrenching pain in my gut tells me, though, that I shouldn’t believe him. It can’t be that simple. It can’t be true. Too many times, others have told me that they were just doing something to help me - something that was in my best interest, even though I couldn’t see how - and it was always a lie. But I really wanted this lie. I wanted Him.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I,” Brian asks, his forehead pressed against the side of my face still. “I’m asking too much and pressing too hard. How about this, Justin - can you agree to stay for just one more day? Stay with me till tomorrow afternoon, okay. That’s not too much to ask and I’ll feel better if you get even just one more good night of rest.”

One more day? I guess it’s not that much. I’m already fucked from the short time I’ve been here already, what’s one more day? 

“Fine. One more day.” I quietly voice my acceptance.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” Brian says, kissing me once on the cheek and then, using his strong hand to tilt my chin up so my lips meet his, leaving a second light kiss on my lips, before enfolding me back into his arms and lying us both down together on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, my research into psychological abuse and its results is starting to scare the s**t out of me. I had no idea about how pervasive this is in some cultures - mine included. The symptoms can manifest as similar to PTSD in many cases. And, while I would never even hint that physical abuse is less serious, in many ways psychological abuse is so much harder to treat. I hope that I'm doing an adequate job portraying the effects of such abuse as it is manifested in my character. I welcome any comments you might have that would help me with this - it's not an area I have much prior experience in so your advice would be priceless. TAG


	9. Engage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is working hard to find the thing that will let him break through Justin's shell and will keep him at the loft. He's getting very close. But, it's not going to be easy to combat years of psychological abuse and neglect. Go, Brian! Hope you enjoy! TAG

Chapter 9 - Engage.

Engage: To occupy, attract or involve someone's interest or attention.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"Hey, Blue Eyes," Brian's low toned voice nudges me awake. "I'm going to go take a shower and then finish up some work, okay? You don't have to get up - I just wanted you to know where I was. You just stay here and sleep some more, if you want."

I nod, allowing my eyes to drift closed again. Before Brian gets up though, he rolls into me, mashing his cock against my hip. He is incredibly hard.

"That's to remind you how much I don't want you, Sunshine," he teases, leaving a small chaste kiss on my forehead before he rolls away and gets up. 

He expects me to get back to sleep after that?

I hear the water coming on in the shower. I hear sounds of traffic from the street below the loft. These are comfortable, homey noises and I'm worried I'm becoming too used to them already. I did agree to stay for one more day, though.

That's when I hear the door buzzer ringing. Brian's still in the shower. So, I quickly get up and run over to the intercom to answer it.

"Hey there, baby. It's Em! Buzz me up, Scottie!" is the response I get, so I press the button to release the door and let this interesting friend of Brian's in. 

"Justin, sweetie, I have to apologize for earlier," Emmett starts right in. "Teddy and I were just being catty, you know. Both of us love Brian. He's really a great guy and ultra generous. And there's no way Teddy meant what he said - he adores Brian. Brian has helped Ted out of some really tough spots in the past, you know. It's just that we all have this image of Brian as one thing and it's hard to let that image go enough to see the real person behind the image sometimes. So, bottom line, just ignore all the shit you heard us talking this morning, okay Baby. We're just a couple of nasty gossiping queens and you shouldn't listen to a thing we said."

"I can vouch for the part about them being nasty gossiping queens, Sunshine," Brian adds as he pads out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his slim hips. 

"Oh? And like you've never been heard gossiping over a beer or two at Woody's, Mr. Kinney?" Emmett teases.

"That's different,". Brian returns. "All I ever gossip about is who's fucking who and how big their cocks are. That's not even really considered gossip between queers, just vital statistics."

"Well, whatever floats your boat, honey. Now, let's get down to real business - Emmett Honeycutt, personal shopper extraordinaire, here to spend your money with wild abandon," Emmett announces with a small bow and a flourish of his hand. "All I need is your directions on where you want it spent."

Brian walks to the counter and retrieves his wallet as he speaks. "Well, to start with, Justin needs clothes and shit. I only got him a few things the other day - enough to get him home from the hospital. But he's definitely going to need more. At least a couple weeks worth - and don't forget to get him a better coat - the one you've got now Sunshine is so thin it wouldn't keep out a light summer breeze, let alone the type of arctic blast we've been getting lately. Just get him everything - but, hold back on the Emmett Honeycutt flame a tad, okay. The boy needs clothes he can actually wear out in public, you know. 

"Don't worry, Brian. I would never hold a neophyte like our boy here to MY fashion standards." Emmett confirms. 

"I was going to send Justin along with you to share in the fun, but after hearing about all the shit you're talking about me, I'm not sure you can be trusted," Brian adds as he hands his credit card over to Em.

"I already apologized for that, Brian," Emmett responds, sounding hurt and embarrassed at the same time. 

"Well, the man of the hour should get the final say, anyway. So, Sunshine, did you want to join Emmett's shopping extravaganza or just hang out here?" Brian asks, looking in my direction.

"Brian, I don't really need any clothes," I protest, already knowing though that it's futile to resist.

"Yes. You do, Justin. See, my cleaning service only comes twice a week and I hate doing laundry. So, if you don't get more clothes, either we'll have to be doing laundry daily or we'll have to have the service come every other day. Either of those options will just make me grumpy. Therefore, the best alternative is to just get you more clothes." Brian explains. 

"But, for only one day?"

"Please let me do this for you, Sunshine," Brian leans into me and whispers in my ear, and I find I just can't say no.

"Good." Brian states when he sees I'm not going to object. "So, what do you want to do? Are you going to join Honeycutt on his shopping adventure or stay here?"

"Stay?"

"Looks like you're on your own, then, Honeycutt. Make sure you get his sizes before you go." Brian directs. "And, when you're done with the new wardrobe, we need food too. All I have in the fridge is beer and poppers, neither of which are on the reccommended foods list the doctor sent home for our patient here. Get everything you think we'll need, Honeycutt. But make sure it's mostly on the healthy side. He doesn't need empty calories. Anything in particular you like, Sunshine?"

Who me? I'm so overwhelmed already that I can barely manage to shrug, let alone add to this ridiculous shopping list.

"Okay, clothes and food. No problemo, señor. Anything else?" Emmett asks.

"That's enough for now," Brian says, dangling the keys to the Jeep over Em's open palm. "If I think of anything more, Honeycutt, I'll call you."

"Don't call me Honeycutt, Brian," Em demands, then turns to me. "Last chance to change your mind, Sweetie? No, well then, I'm off! See you boys later. So long."

"Don't wreck my Jeep, Honeycutt!" Brian yells after the retreating, chortling figure. "Oh wait, I just thought of one more thing."

Brian runs out to the landing and stops Em, but I can't hear what he's adding since I've already headed off to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

By the time Emmett arrived, I was already starting to think about what I needed to accomplish today for work and how I could incorporate the fantastic drawing Justin had made yesterday into the campaign. I'd been thinking of a couple ways I could revamp the multimedia spots to include the logo design. The boy's art skills were therefore still at the forefront of my thoughts when they were interrupted by discussions about Emmett's shopping extravaganza.

The images of that artwork, unsurprisingly popped back up when Em asked if there was anything else he could get while he was out. Maybe that was a way I could further connect with the kid. If I could get him to believe that his artwork was as good as I knew it to be, hopefully he would start to feel that he was worthwhile as a person too. Anyway, it was worth a try. So, at the last moment I ran after Emmett and told him to add some art supplies to his list.

After we get Emmett on his way, I go back into the loft and look around to find where Justin has hidden himself. Justin is one of the quietest men I've ever known. He has a peacefulness about him that manifests itself as a profound sense of utter quiet. So, even when you know he's in the house you still sometimes feel compelled to look around for him just to make sure. 

This is one of those times. I have to scan the room twice before I finally realize he is sitting at the kitchen island waiting patiently for me. When I lock eyes with him, he gives me an almost-smile and watches while I move off towards the computer. 

After about twenty minutes, he comes and looks over my shoulder with evident curiosity to see what I'm working on. Without saying anything, I hand him a sheaf of research materials I'd scanned earlier which have some bearing on the boards I'd been revising. Justin takes the papers and walks over to the sofa where he sits and reads the entire stack diligently. 

Then, several minutes later, he returns to where I'm sitting, picks up some blank sheets of paper, a graphite pencil and two of the demo boards the art department had prepared for me and takes them all back to the living room. Instead of sitting on the couch this time, though, he places the boards on the coffee table and sits on the floor. I watch him off and on out of the corner of my eye, curious as to what he's come up with. But I restrain myself, waiting till he's ready to show me whatever it is.

He studiously works at the boards and his sketch for over a half an hour - tracing over sections with a graphite pencil, rubbing at the paper occasionally with his index finger, erasing and then redrawing sections. Every once in a while the bare tip of his pink tongue will dart into view. Having already filled my quota of lesbionic thoughts for the day, I refuse to let myself think of this as cute. Nope - not cute at all.1.

When he's finished, I can sense his hesitation. He keeps looking in my direction surreptitiously. Once he's worked up the gumption to bring his idea to me, it's as if he feels a blindside attack will work best - he heads first towards the kitchen, then angles towards the door and finally comes up to me from behind my left shoulder. 

The closer he gets to me the more his confidence seems to ebb. His pace gets slower and he drags his feet more and more. When he finally reaches me, he thrusts his masterpiece at me and then promptly retreats back to the couch, not even waiting till I've looked at it before he assumes he's failed. The little spark of creativity I'd been admiring while he was drawing has vanished completely.

He hasn't failed though - the artwork I'm looking at is magnificent and his idea to incorporate the whole skaterboy love of body art into the campaign by using tatoos to display the business' logo and some of the principal products is brilliant. I've already got some ideas in mind for the perfect models to use for the print ads - a couple of my buddies from the gym would be perfect. The idea is hot, edgy and, as far as I know, unique. I'm completely blown away by not only the concept but also the fabulous art work. 

Now, how do I go about proving this to my skittish guest?

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I don't know why I did it. I have no idea how I got up the courage to even attempt such an idiotic thing. One minute I was watching Brian working on something for a client, then Brian gives me all this demographic research, and the next minute I'm drawing. I'm sure it's just a pile of shit like all my other stuff. But, it felt good to be drawing again - almost fun. I haven't had much opportunity to draw for a long time and this just felt so good. But why the hell I thought to bother Brian with my doodling, I'll never know.

Brian obviously has professional artists that prepare these display boards for him. He doesn't need some rank amateur like me to redo his staff's work. If he had wanted my help he would have said something. Shit, now I'm fucking embarrassed. I wish I could run over there and grab that sketch back from him and erase it from his memory completely.

Once I'd picked up that pencil and made the first mark on the paper, though, I just couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. I can barely remember the last time I drew or painted or created anything. When I first ended up on the streets there hadn't been time. Then there hadn't been any resources. I finally came to realize my father had been right, that there wasn't any place in my life for art. He was always right, even when I fought him, I'd known he was right. 

So I guess when Brian showed me those drawings I just sort of lost it - I wanted to draw so much. Call it temporary insanity, I guess, or blame it on my staying here way longer than was good for me. But now that I've given Him that sketch to look at I feel like I want to simply crawl in a hole somewhere and die. I'm sure he's going to hate it. I've been told often enough that I shouldn't waste my time on art - that I just don't have what it takes. I should have known better.

Of course, he'll pretend like it's good just to be nice to me - that's the way he is. But obviously he'll only be lying. He's going to see how completely pathetic I am. Well the good news about that is I won't have to waste my time hanging out here for a whole other day.

All the energy I felt just a few minutes ago is gone now. I feel exhausted all of a sudden. Maybe Brian won't mind if I just go lie down in bed again for a while and rest. I start to get up. Unfortunately, Brian is blocking my way. Why won't he just leave me alone? Why is he smiling at me? Jesus, I'm so fucking tired of trying to make sense of everything here. It's just too much fucking work. I want to just go lie down so badly I'm almost ready to cry but He's still standing there in my way, damn it.

"What do you want from me, Brian," I manage to ask through my overwhelming fatigue.

"I don't want anything from you, Sunshine. I want to give you something," He says. 

The happiness and excitement in his voice force me to look up into his eyes. The sight of Brian's eager joy is like a current of cool water washing through the middle of me.2. I feel refreshed - the tiredness Is swept away with the tides. Brian is happy with me, I can tell and I want to revel in the feeling. 

Then he leans down towards me, tilting my chin up with one long finger so that our mouths are only centimeters apart. And, never letting go of my gaze, he touches his lips to mine, softly at first but with increasing firmness. His sweet breath, redolent of peppermint, envelops me. Brian's moist breath runs down the nape of my neck, curling along my spine. A sense of peace runs through me along the cool currents. My body throbs with safety and I feel so joined to Brian in this moment that I can almost feel the pulse of his happiness along with my own.3.

"Your drawing is amazing, Justin. It's perfect for the campaign I'm working up for this account. If it's okay with you, I'd like to use your drawings and ideas in my presentation," Brian's words are as sweet as his kiss but don't make total sense to me.

"You want to use my work? You like it?" I ask, needing to be clear on this. "You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not just saying that. I love your work and I want to use it. May I?"

"Sure," is the total extent of my answer.

"Thank you. I know this is going to wow the client, completely," Brian beams at me, placing his hand at the small of my back to guide me back towards his desk. "Let me show you some of the other things I was thinking about and get your input."

Brian and I spend the next few hours going over his pitch. He listens to my ideas about everything. No one has ever listened to me or asked my opinion about something like this. He actually takes into account my ideas and suggestions. 

As we talk, I sketch what he describes and then we revise it together or scrap it or change it completely. In the end, when Brian starts to pack up our work, saying he'll have his staff finalize it all tomorrow, I feel like some small part of me that I thought had died is coming back to life.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

The sparkle that comes into his eyes as we work together makes me want to shout and jump for joy and grab him and kiss him all at the same time. Is this what will bring Justin back to life for good? Fuck, I hope so.

And, with perfect timing, it's at that very minute that I hear Emmett jangling my keys out on the landing. I smile over at Justin who smiles back at me wholeheartedly for the very first time. I see now exactly why Deb gave him that silly nickname - his full uninhibited smile is so bright it's practically a rival for any sunbeam. Sunshine lights up the entire room when he smiles like that. I instinctively reach for his hand and I'm thrilled when he enthusiastically squeezes mine back as we head towards the door to greet our happy little shopper.

"Well, you're not going to believe what I was able to get for you, darling. I hit ALL the sales. It was fabulous! I've got at least two weeks of lovely new duds for you, Sweetie. I can't wait to have you try them all on for me. You are going to look soooooo hot." Emmett is gushing about his conquests before he's even inside the loft.

"I know you said to go with a more restrained fashion sense, Brian, and I did, really, for the most part, but I did break down a little in the end and pick Justin up a couple of clubbing outfits that you are just going to drool over - I know I did, imagining that adorable little bubble butt in the outfit I picked out. Oh, I just can't wait. You have to bring him to Babylon tonight so everyone can see . . . " Emmett continues, amazingly without seeming to need to breathe in order to talk endlessly. 

He is unloading shopping bag after bag from the lift as he speaks, handing off his purchases to me, to Justin or just heaping them on the furniture when our hands were too full to take more. I’m amazed that he's somehow managed to hit so many stores in such a short time period. But of course, I'd already known Em's powers of shopping were virtually limitless - which was exactly why I'd thought of him for the job.

Once all the clothing bags are unloaded, he grabs one or two in particular, shoving them into Justin's hands and then herding the boy off towards the bedroom.

"Now, Sweetie, you just go put this on for me, so I know I got your sizes right. That way you don't have to try everything on for me right now. Go on, babydoll. I just can't wait to see what you think Brian." Oh Emmett - that man sure can gush, but you have to admire his full-on flame.

"While he's changing I'll hurry back down and bring up the groceries," Em advises. "If you help, Bri, I think we can manage it all in only one more trip."

"I'm surprised you had time to get the groceries too, considering how many stores it looks like you hit for the clothes, Honeycutt," I kid him as we venture down to the parking garage to get the rest of his booty.

"Of course I managed the groceries. I also managed that special little request of yours, Brian," Emmett says, winking at me conspiratorially. "Justin's gonna just love what I got. And, don't worry, Brian. I swear not to tell anyone what a big, sweet, softie you're turning into."

"Watch out how you use the word 'soft' around me, Honeycutt," I growl at him - all in fun, though, and I'm oddly not really bothered that he knows about my feelings towards Justin. 

We unload heaping bags full of food from the back of the Jeep. I'm not sure how many people he thought were going to be living at my loft, since it looks like he's bought enough food for at least twenty. I'm also not sure how he managed to get all this, plus the umpteen million shopping bags full of clothes, in the car at the same time. Emmett - the miracle worker of shopping. 

The last bag he pulls out of the car from the floor of the front passenger seat is a large, beautifully adorned gift bag with a large white silk bow. He hands it to me, winking again, and then gathers up several grocery bags in his large hands before heading to the lobby with his store of goodies. While we’re waiting for the lift he also hands me back my credit card and keys along with a pile of receipts. I hand him back a couple of large bills to pay him for his time, although I'm not sure why since he so obviously enjoys this too much for it to have been considered working.

"Thank you, Brian." Emmett says demurely, knowing me well enough that he knows I won't tolerate anything more effusive.

"Thank you, Emmy Lou. It looks like I definitely hired the right queen for the job. No one but you could have bought so much in such a limited period of time. You are truly amazing!" I give him my standard tongue-in-cheek, back-handed compliment, which he graciously accepts for what it is.

Struggling slightly under the pounds of groceries, we make it back upstairs and Emmett immediately starts unpacking and putting away the groceries, while I pour drinks for everyone - knowing that I at least need one after that harrowing experience. Emmett accepts his rum and coke while deftly juggling several containers of yogurt, two wedges of cheese and what appears to be half the shopping aisle full of various condiments. Well, I think to myself, I did tell him to get everything. 

By this point I'm starting to wonder what happened to Justin, who's been up in the bedroom, supposedly changing into his new outfit, for much longer than it usually takes a teenager to dress. I finally can't take it anymore and have to go check on him. What I find is a half naked young man, sitting on the floor, with the shopping bags Emmett had forced on him arrayed around him in a semi-circle as if to provide a protective barrier. He seems dazed. He's made no attempt to try on any of the items lying half out of the bags.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Once again Brian has gone overboard. I'm looking at these piles of new clothes and I know I just can't do this. Why does he always have to push it too far? I was actually feeling so happy about drawing and working together with him on his presentation. Why did he have to go and ruin everything like this? 

This isn't something you do for someone who's only going to be around for one more day. This is something you do to keep someone indefinitely. But I can't let him tie me to him like this. I can't - I won't let him in. Once you let people in, either they hurt you themselves or someone else will use your feelings for them to hurt you. Either way the only result is pain. I already have enough pain. I refuse to let him do this to me when it will only add to the pain.

I'm still just sitting there frozen when He comes into the room. I can't look at him. If I let myself look at him, my resolve is likely to break apart. I'm still trying to work my way back to numb - it's not working very well because I now have to get around that little bit of happy that's far too distracting. If I look at Brian I know I'll be lost again - I can't look at him or let myself think about him kissing me or that piece of happy or anything else that will break me. 

"You don't like the clothes?" Brian says quietly.

I refuse to answer him. I can't say anything that will distract me. I won't let this happen to me.

"What's wrong? If you don't like the clothes, I'll have Emmett exchange them," Brian sounds confused, but I'm not going to look at him.

"Justin?"

Go away. Please go away. Please. I just can't do this.

"I don't understand, Justin. What can't you do," he asks - shit, I didn't realize I was speaking aloud. 

Brian kneels down beside me. He's trying to see into my eyes as I try to keep my head turned away. He manages to get hold of my chin, holding it still and cupping it with the palm of his hand, his thumb stroking across my lower lip. He captures my gaze, finally, and the worry and concern in his eyes cause angry tears to burst from mine, melting whatever numbness I'd rebuilt and allowing the despair to take over. 

I hate how my anger always seems to come out in tears. I hate how weak it makes me look. I wish I could yell, scream, rave, even hit something, but I can't. All I can ever seem to manage is tears. It's not due to sadness though. It's rage that I just can't express.

"Shit. I did it again. It's too much, isn't it?" Brian understands. 

He gets up and begins to gather the bags and clothing together. He hands me a pair of simple cargo pants and a long-sleeved tee and takes all the rest away, tossing it alI into the closet and sliding the door closed. Then he carefully pats my shoulder, letting his fingers trail across my cheek as he pulls away.

"Get dressed, Sunshine. I'll take care of the rest," Brian says as he walks out of the room, leaving me exhausted from the roller coaster ride of emotions he's taken me through today.

~~*~~

Footnotes:  
1\. Smolder, Chapter 4.  
2\. Full credit for much of the beautiful imagery I’ve used here goes to Jim Grimsley, from his wonderful novel, Dream Boy. See, p. 12. While I haven’t quoted his work directly, if you read the original, you’ll see where much of my imagery comes from. All credit to the master!  
3\. Id., p. 121.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying really hard to get to a point where I feel comfortable adding some really good smutty parts but with this story, it's not going to happen very quickly. Even a good kiss almost wipes Justin's protective shell away to the point he recoils. But, never fear - I will get us there in the end. TAG


	10. Disconnection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is feeling rejected. Justin is feeling overwhelmed and is about to bolt. Gus to the rescue! What a threesome, huh? Plus, you get another glimpse, and a very scary one at that, of what has happened in Justin's past. Hope you enjoy - angst and all. TAG
> 
> *** Warning - Major Angst. Also, description of childhood psychological abuse. ***

Chapter 10 - Disconnection.

Disconnection: Disjunction; State of being disconnected, severed or detached.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Slow down. Slow down. Slow down. I keep repeating my new mantra to myself. I need to slow down before I scare the kid away completely. I remember what it's like to be scared all the time and to not trust. Thankfully it's been a long time for me, but I still remember. I have to keep reminding myself that Justin is still living in that reality now. He needs time. This isn't something you get over in just a couple days - if ever. But if I want to help him, if I want him to stay, I have to stop pushing so hard.

Emmett must have overheard some of what went on in the other room because he has a very strange expression on his face when I return from talking with Justin.

"Everything okay, Brian?" Em asks.

"I hope so, Emmett," I answer, not completely convinced of the fact myself. "I think we're going to skip the club tonight, though. Lindz and Mel invited Justin and me for dinner - I think that's a little more Justins speed right now."

"Of course, Bri. I didn't mean to push, you know. I . . . You're doing a good thing, Brian," Emmett said sincerely, squeezing my arm in support before starting to gather his things up to leave. "I put a plate of bread, cheese and fruit out for you two on the counter, just to tide you over till din-din. Just call if you need anything more, Bri. Ta ta for now, Bri! Bye, Justin."

Justin had silently come up behind me as Emmett was speaking. I didn't realize it until Em said goodbye to him as he was heading out the door. Justin looked once again composed - his indifferent mask firmly back in place.

"Hungry? Emmett made us a cheese platter," I point to the treat where Em left it.

Justin nods and heads over to retrieve the plate, carrying it towards the table. I gather water bottles and napkins and follow. We sit. We eat. We don't talk. That easy camaraderie we had earlier has disappeared. I don't like it at all and I have to find a way to get it back.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian has calmed down a bit since Emmett left. He's giving me my space. He's not pushing. So why do I still not like it. The ball of pain in my gut seems to be leaking into my system again.

I'm standing at the kitchen sink after tidying away our snack when I sense Brian has come up behind me.

"Hey, you," he says quietly. "I'm trying, okay. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. Please don't pull away."

I feel his strong yet gentle arms coming around me. His right hand is sneaking under the hem of the shirt to find the skin of my belly while the other wraps tightly around my chest. He rests his cheek against the top of my head and I feel him sigh as if this moment is all he ever wanted in life. 

This is such stupid shit. He won't fuck me - even when I offered plain out - but now he wants to stand here all sad-like and hold me? I should tell him to go screw himself. I can't though. My traitorous body seems to want this. So I say nothing.

I should pull away. I shouldn't let this happen - but I just can't make myself move. He is hypnotizing me with the small circular patterns he's drawing on my belly. 

After countless hours like this, or maybe it's only seconds, I feel the warmth from his groin growing up between us. His one hand has slipped down from my chest to my waist. His other hand brushes lower too and I can sense his disappointment at what he doesn't find. But he says nothing at my lack of matching heat. 

He kisses me once on the side of my neck, then gives one more squeeze and releases his hold on me. He moves away slowly, trying not to be obvious as he adjusts himself. I feel frozen in place. Frozen in time. My body already misses the contact. In my head I am screaming, telling myself to run, get away from here, this is dangerous. My body isn't listening.

"Are you ready to head out to dinner?" Brian asks while I'm still standing there frozen. "We should probably get going. Gus gives me such a hard time when I'm late. I think Mel puts him up to it."

"Dinner?"

"Oops. I forgot to tell you, Lindz sent an email earlier and switched our dinner plans to tonight. Mel couldn't do it tomorrow," Brian explains. "I hope that's alright with you. I wouldn't want to disappoint Gus."

"Sure. No problem," I manage to say even through my still frozen state.

"I know this has been a long day for you. We don't have to stay late, though. I promise. It's just that Gus wants to see you again and I try never to disappoint my Sonny Boy if I can help it. Plus, I can't cook for shit, while Lindsey's meals are pretty good, so it's either dinner at the girls' or takeout again here."

"I don't mind going to dinner," I say again, it's as if Brian needs reassurance of this.

"Okay. Um, just give me a minute and we'll get going." Brian says as he retreats into the bathroom.

I'm still standing frozen in the same place wondering how long this disconnect between my mind and my body will last.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Shit. He wasn't hard at all. He really doesn't want me. I thought before it was just the sense of obligation that was a turnoff for him. Or, he was just feeling too poorly. But maybe he's just not attracted to me at all. Now what do I do? I'm hard as a fucking rock and the gorgeous hot blond in my living room couldn't care less. 

Fuck it - I don't have time for anything other than a quick, unsatisfying whack off. 

Ten minutes later I come back out to the main room, ready to head out to the munchers' for dinner, and I find Justin standing in the very same place, in the very same position, where I left him. I'm about ready to break down myself at the thought of dealing with yet another crisis. What's wrong with him now, damn it? I take several deep breaths before approaching him to find out what can be done.

"Justin? What is it? What's wrong?" I ask, as patiently as I can at this point. 

"Huh?" Justin responds, turning to look at me as if he's just waking from a deep sleep. 

"Are you ready? You seem upset again. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

Again, Justin responds, but seems so distant and closed. But I'm not going to take on another intervention today, so I just let it slide and head for the door, assuming that he will follow. I probably shouldn't have assumed anything though, since he remains rooted to that spot, almost oblivious to the fact that I'd moved. I turn back, place a hand on his shoulder and physically guide him towards the door. It seems that my touch is enough to motivate him, at least sufficiently so that we make it to the car.

Once we're at the Munchers' I let Lindz take over a bit so I can get a break. What I need right now is a drink, so I help myself to the bottle of scotch they keep in the kitchen. I know I told Justin I would be there for him, and I will if he'll let me, but I can't do it right this minute. I'm just a little too frustrated, too tired and a tad bit pissed off after everything that's happened today. Lindz is playing the perfect suburban hostess, which she loves to do every so often, so I just sit back, sip my scotch and let her. 

And Gus, well he's being his sweet little self, and I can at least relax enough to enjoy my time with my son.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I can tell Brian is angry with me. I knew he would be. I should have told him no. I should have left this morning. I should never have agreed to stay here. I can't be the person he wants me to be, and I know I should just leave, but . . . I wish I could find a way to stay. 

In the past two days I've actually felt happy for the first time in . . . I don't know how long. It hurts to feel again. But, now that I've felt it, I crave more. I know it's impossible. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up. But I would really like to feel a little bit happy again. I'd like to make Him happy. I know it's fucking impossible. I'm not the kind of person that gets to be happy. I'm not the kind of person who deserves happy. I'm definitely not capable of bringing happiness to others. 

I need to leave now. It's already too late to avoid getting hurt - it's gonna hurt like hell - but if I leave maybe it's not too late to keep the pain bearable.

All of these thoughts are going through my mind on an endless loop while my body just continues on autopilot. Sometimes I feel like a puppet - operated by strings someone else is pulling, and I can't even see who it is holding the strings, while my mind is off doing something completely different. There's no connection between what I'm thinking and how I'm acting. No one except me can tell this, though. No one else understands that sometimes I just have no control over my traitorous body. 

So here I am, sitting in this happy family home, pretending to follow along with the conversation but in reality having no clue what's going on around me. My mind is stuck in this rut. I need to get away, but I can't make my body move. It wants to stay. 

Gus is looking at me now with the oddest expression on his little face. His head is tilted to the side, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth is all pursed up and sideways. I feel like a rare bug he's captured and is examining to see if maybe he should dissect it. I don't like it - it's as if he can see inside my jumbled mind and can sort through all my noisy thoughts to find some kernel of truth that even I'm not aware of. Okay, I know he's just a little kid, not even four yet, but that look is way too wise for his years and he's freaking me out. 

Before it gets too bad, though, Gus jumps up, runs out of the room and up the stairs and then returns straight away with a huge storage box full of crayons and a stack of drawing paper. He goes right to work, clearing off a space on the coffee table in front of where I'm sitting and then setting up his supplies. When everything is arranged the way he wants it, he points at the box of crayons.

"I don't think Mama will let us paint right now because it's too messy for right before dinner. So, we'll have to just color instead, Jus'n. Here's your paper. What should we color?" Gus says, already convinced that I'm joining him in his artistic pursuits. 

I shrug - it's the best I can do right now with my head still stuck on it's treadmill of worry.

"Well, I'm going to color a picture of me and Daddy playing soccer. He's really good at soccer and sometimes he takes me to the park and teaches me. You could color a picture of your Daddy, too, Jus'n," Gus suggests.

Panic. I'm NOT drawing my father. I'm not drawing anything. I need to get out of here, NOW. 

"I don't think Justin wants to color a picture like that Gus," Lindsey interrupts - she must have seen my nearly hysterical response.

"Okay. You can draw something else then, Jus'n. If you want, you can draw my Daddy too," the boy suggests, smiling up at Brian angelically. 

Watching Brian smiling back at his son with that doting, almost silly grin on his face, I think that maybe I can draw that. Yes, I'll color a picture of Gus' daddy, too. That suggestion doesn't make the panic well up inside. So, I draw Brian and Gus together. 

It comes out pretty good, too. When Gus is done with his picture, we exchange drawings - Gus says I can have his picture if he can keep mine. I nod my agreement as I study the picture of two stick figures - one taller than the other - with a black and white ball on the green surface between them, and large scribbled trees all around under a smiling yellow sun. It's the picture all kids are supposed to draw when they imagine their family. I'm glad Gus has that image in his mind. I've never had a picture like this, though.

"This is really good, Justin," Lindsey says, scrutinizing the drawing I made, which she's extricated from Gus' grubby paws. "I'm not kidding - I work in an art gallery here in town and I used to teach art at a local high school, so I know what I'm saying. You have some amazing potential. It's a little raw maybe, but with some training . . . Did you ever consider going to art school?"

That makes me laugh. Art school? Oh yeah - I'll get right on that, I think. Although, since I don't have an address, wherever will they mail my acceptance letter? What the fuck is she thinking? Most days the only thing I have the time to worry about is whether or not I'll have enough money to buy food. Art school - that's a good one.

"You should see the work he did for me this afternoon," Brian interjects, an almost proud tone to his voice. "Justin came up with some great ideas for a campaign I'm going to pitch for a potential client next week. And, his artwork was phenomenal. I can't wait to show it to the client. The CEO is this completely off the wall type and I just know she's going to go for the unconventional approach Justin came up with."

"That would be so cool, Jus'n. You should do it and then you could be an artist like Mommy or an 'Ad Zec' like Daddy," Gus decides to weigh in on my future career options. "They both have really fun jobs. Mama's job sounds fun too - she's an attorney and she gets to go to court and talk to judges and sometimes she breaks other attorneys balls - but she says she doesn't want me to be an attorney ‘cause I'm too nice and it's too mean a job. Since you're nice, you probably shouldn't be an attorney either. But you'd be a good Ad Zec or an artist."

Gus' little speech causes everyone to laugh, which thankfully gets them all off the topic of my career choices. Thank you, Gus. Melanie starts to explain to Gus that she doesn't really break anyone's balls, but Brian is laughing so hard and interrupting with snide comments so often, that Mel gives up. Gus has already moved on to his next drawing, so he really isn't paying any attention, anyway.

"Here, Jus'n. You can have this picture, too. That's me and Emily. She's my bestest friend at school. She gave me a red pencil yesterday - she had one blue one and one red one and she let me choose which one I wanted. She's real nice. Who's your bestest friend, Jus'n?"

"When I was about your age, I had a best friend named Daphne," I tell Gus while the adults are busy discussing something else. "She had the prettiest, curliest hair I'd ever seen. Sometimes she'd let me brush it if I was careful not to pull too hard. She used to always trade me her ham or turkey sandwiches for my peanut butter ones."

"That's nice. Is Daphne stil your friend?" Gus asks, innocently.

"No. I don't see her anymore."

"Why not?"

"My father didn't like her. He said she got me into too much trouble at school. So, he told me I couldn't see her anymore. And when I disobeyed and snuck out of the house one time to go to see her, my father made her parents agree not to let me visit any more. After that we stopped being friends." It's not the complete story, of course, but I wasn't going to tell Gus all the things my father said and what he threatened to do to me and to Daphne if I ever disobeyed him again.

"I think that's sad. Maybe now that you're all grown up you could be friends with Daphne again?" Gus suggests.

"I don't know where she lives anymore, Gus. Besides she probably wouldn't want to be my friend now anyway."

I didn't realize how quiet it had become in the room while Gus and I were speaking. When I look up, three sets of eyes are staring at me. Damn it. It's too hard to keep my guard up around Gus. He's too innocent and trusting. I want to take it all back or sink into the cushions of the couch or maybe just disappear. I wish they would all stop looking at me.

Good thing Gus comes to the rescue again. He pipes up to ask how much longer it will be till dinner, which serves to break the tension. In short order dinner is served and I manage to make it through the rest of the night without embarrassing myself any further. Hopefully they've all forgotten my little story about Daphne - at least for now.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Gus asks me to read him a story after supper and then I put him to bed. He is the only person I've ever felt comfortable with when it comes to talking about difficult topics like emotions. He asks me questions now about Justin that I'm not sure how to answer, though. 

"Daddy, why is Jus'n always so sad?" Gus starts off with probably the toughest question of all.

"I don't know, Sonny Boy. I think he's had a pretty hard life."

"I wish he wasn't so sad. I wish I could make him be happier," Gus opines.

"Me too, Sonny Boy. Me too," I say as I bend to give the boy a kiss goodnight on his forehead. "Happy dreams, Sonny Boy."

"Thank you, Daddy. I always have happy dreams after you kiss me goodnight," Gus says as he snuggles deeper under his covers. "Maybe you should give Jus'n a goodnight kiss tonight too. That way he'd have happy dreams and wouldn't be so sad tomorrow."

"That's not a bad idea, Sonny Boy. It's worth a try at least," I agree. "Now, no more talking. It's off to dreamland with you."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

It feels later than it actually is. All the time I've been on the streets I've always felt perpetually tired. So why is it that tonight I feel more exhausted than I can ever remember? I think it's because I've lost some of the numbness. 

As soon as we get to the loft Brian suggests I shower and get into bed. He says I look tired and that he's afraid I did too much today. He thinks I'm still too ill to be up and about all day like this. I would argue with him if I had the energy.

The hot shower feels so good on my tired sore muscles and my cold skin. This is another thing that will be hard to leave. I relish the feeling of clean and warm together. The bed is also clean and the covers are warm. The mattress is soft and welcoming. 

I'm almost asleep when Brian finishes his shower and slides into the bed next to me. I'm lying on my side facing towards Him. I automatically tense up as He nears. I'm afraid He'll want to touch me. I'm afraid He won't want to touch me. 

"Happy dreams, Sunshine," is all Brian says as he leans down to place a kiss on my forehead before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

As tired as I am, though, sleep doesn't come right away. Images from the day keep rolling in my mind: Breakfast with Brian, Gus and Linsdsey; Later at the Diner where Brian kissed me in front of everyone; Here at the loft, working together with Brian on the presentation; Brian holding me, stroking me, his obvious desire pressing into me, his lips on my neck. 

Damn it. I want these things again. Even though I know I don't deserve these feelings and shouldn't want them. 

I wish I was able to have happy dreams. I can already feel the bad ones licking at the edges of my consciousness though. What are happy dreams, I wonder?

~~*~~

*Bang, bang, bang.* Shit. 'Just a minute.' Maybe I can finish. 'You open this door right this minute, young man, or you'll live to regret it.' Fuck, not now - I'm so close. Just. One. More. Minute.

*Crash*. 'What in the name of God do you think you're doing you filthy, disgusting pervert. Get your hands off yourself this instant.' 

He's pulling me by the hair, dragging me out of the bathroom. It fucking hurts.

'Dad, please, stop. Please let go of me, it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

At least the magazine closed when it fell - he can't tell which picture I was looking at. Fuck, he hasn't even let me pull up my pants. I'm so fucked this time.

'Justin Taylor, this is the most disgusting display of perversion I've ever had the displeasure to experience. How dare you molest yourself like this. You know this is a sin, don't you? Answer me when I ask you a question, boy!'

'Yes, Sir." I'm standing in front of him with my head bowed. If I don't argue too much, maybe this will end quickly.

'I don't think you do understand. You're far too flippant, young man. Get down on your knees this instant and start praying that the Lord can somehow, someday, find a way to forgive you.'

I'm down on my knees. I'm pretending to pray. Mostly I'm just trying to listen to figure out where he's gone and what he's likely to do next. Shit, he comes back with a leather belt in his hands.

'Hands behind your back, young man,' he orders and I don't dare disobey.

Instead of hitting me with the belt, though, he's using it to tie my hands together behind me.

'Since you can't seem to control yourself, I'll have to teach you how. You will stay here praying on your knees with your hands tied so you won't be tempted into further sin until you've learned control, young man. I don't want to ever, EVER, see or hear you molesting yourself again, do you hear me? NEVER. You are a dirty, sick, perverted boy who has no sense of decency. You are not to move out of that spot until you can prove to me you've learned your lesson. Do you hear me, boy?'

'Yes, Sir.' I groan, realizing now that this isn't going to end anytime soon.

Hours later, he finally returns. I'm swaying, trying to stay up on aching sore knees. My shoulders ache from having my arms pulled back at such an uncomfortable angle. My hands are numb from lack of circulation.

'Have you learned your lesson young man?'

'Yes, Sir. Please, Sir, can you please untie me now, it hurts.'

I'm not sure you've fully learned your lesson, boy. Let's test your resolve.'

He's got the magazine I was looking at earlier. He's looking through the pages. I don't even know which pages he's looking at, but just remembering, I'm getting hard again. Fuck. Not now. Please not now.

'I thought so. You're still unrepentant. You goddamned disgusting pervert. If your hands weren't tied you'd be all over yourself with lust again, wouldn't you? That's fine with me, boy. You'll stay here all night if necessary and if that's what it takes. You will never touch yourself inappropriately again in this house. DO YOU HEAR ME? Do you? You are going to learn to keep your dick and your hands under control. And until you do, you'll be spending all your time here on your knees, praying for God's help.'

He tosses the contents of whatever he's been drinking in my face. The alcohol stings in my eyes but the pain and the cold at least get rid of my hard on. At least until he comes back for the next test.

~~*~~

Disoriented. Confused. I'm awake but I can't remember at first where I am. 

"Justin? Shhh. It's okay. Just another dream," Brian whispers, only half awake, spooning around me even more closely.

I remember the dream this time. I remember what he used to do to me. How could my own father have done that to me? I wish I didn't remember the dream. 

I can't stop shaking. Brian must sense my fear now too. He's holding onto me more tightly. He's rubbing my shoulder, my back, my stomach, anywhere skin can touch skin.

"Shhh, Justin. I'm here. You'll be okay. Can you tell me what's wrong?" Brian is mumbling whatever words he thinks will help calm me.

"I remembered something. Something about my father. I'm scared, Brian. I'm so scared."

"It's okay, Justin. Your father isn't here now. He can't hurt you," Brian says, trying to comfort me by leaving a string of tender little kisses along my neck and jaw between his words.

"It's too late. He's already hurt me. I'm broken. There's a hole inside me where my father tore out whatever I was before. The empty hole is so big, it hurts and there's no way to fix it."

"I know about the holes. I have a few myself still," Brian empathizes. "They get smaller over time, though. I can help if you let me."

I'm still trembling. I don't know how to make it stop. It feels like the only thing keeping me in place is Brian with his tight grip on me. 

"What can I do? How can I help you, Justin." Brian sounds worried.

"Don't let go. Please don't let go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter about three times. It's was a difficult one to write. I hope it flows okay and makes sense and that it's not too OOC for the characters as I've written them. In the end, I felt good about what I wrote, but I won't know for sure until I find out how my readers will accept it. Please let me know your opinions! TAG


	11. Dichotomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day starts out so nicely for the boys. Justin is feeling more relaxed and he decided to go with Brian to Kinnetik for the day. But the second half of the day doesn't go quite as well. Funny how that happens sometimes. Hope you like this one. So sorry that it's a super long chapter. There just didn't seem to be a better place to break the narrative. I know you all hate when I write a lot anyway, but I guess you'll just have to deal. TAG

Chapter 11 - Dichotomy.

Dichotomy: The division of a whole into two conflicting or contradictory parts.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Monday morning. Unfortunately I have to get into the office today - I already took too much time off last week to stay with Justin. But I can't bear the thought of leaving him here alone. I would estimate that the chances of him still being here when I come back are basically nil. So, I guess that means Sunshine is coming to Kinnetik. 

I wish I didn't have to move though. Justin is sprawled over me, sound asleep. I hate to wake him, especially after the hard night he had. It took us both more than an hour to get back to sleep last night after his dream/memory. Even though he wouldn't tell me what he'd remembered, I knew it had to have been absolutely horrendous considering how upset he was.

Right now, though, he looks so incredibly peaceful. His face is nested in the crook of my neck with his hair covering us both. The smell of his breath, of his skin, pervades the whole bed; odd how sweet it is to smell this boy, this man, from so close. We are bound together by the weight of his leg draped across my thighs and his arm thrown over my chest. We are, we have been, all night, practically one. Joining us further is the heaviness of my erection, pressed between us#. How can it be that I feel protected, lying here now with this slight young man's body covering me, when all I want to do is protect him. 

My only question now is how far can I take this without pushing him away. I desperately want to touch him, to hold him, and oh so much more, but so far any attempts I've made in that direction have backfired. Having him sprawled across me like this, though, so deliciously displayed, is killing me. 

Go slow. Remember, Kinney. Go slow. 

"Hey, Sunshine," I whisper, stroking his hair away so I can see his face. "Time to rise and shine. We have a 9:30 am appointment with my art department."

"Mmmm," he rolls over with a contented warm murmur, making me instantly regret the loss of contact with his warm skin. 

"Want to join me in the shower?" I can't resist the attempt, even though I know it's pushing our self-imposed boundaries. 

He shakes his head, no, snuggling back down further into the mattress. At least my offer didn't cause him to bolt. This is progress, I'm sure of it. 

I also can't resist leaning over to kiss those soft, coral pink lips before I finally tear myself from the bed and shuffle towards another lonely shower. I don't remember jacking off alone this much since I was in high school. Justin must be something beyond special - nothing short of amazing could force Brian Kinney to keep servicing himself like this when I just know how many fags are out there dying to give me a little attention. Justin or no Justin, a trip to the club has undeniably got to happen in the near future. 

I'm out of the shower, starting the coffee and contemplating what I can put together for Justin for breakfast, before the blond finally stumbles out of the bedroom, dressed only in a pair of loose sweat pants. Did I just moan aloud at the sight of him? The sexual frustration is definitely at ultra high levels. 

As he sits and I start to assemble bagel fixings, I notice the gift bag from the art supply store that Emmett left at the end of the counter yesterday. Perhaps this might be a good way to acclimate him into the office. Anything I can do to tempt him to stay a little longer. I know if I don't he will insist on leaving this afternoon as we agreed, and I'm dreading that prospect. 

When I set the bag in front of him, next to his plate, he watches it warily as if there's something deadly hiding inside. He makes no move to open it. A random thought flits through my brain - how long will he just sit there watching the bag if I don't prod him a little?

"Open it," I direct.

Justin, still wary of the dangerous beast within, pulls at one end of the ribbon very slowly. I have this childish impulse to tear the bag open for him, shredding all the wrapping paper and shoving the contents forcibly into his hands. Lucky for me and my wavering impulse control, Justin finally gets the bow all the way off and peeks into the bag. He looks at me inquisitively before reaching inside for the tempting treasures within. 

The first thing he pulls out is a large rectangular bundle, loosely wrapped in tissue paper. I smile and nod at him, trying to encourage him to proceed. Annoyingly, Justin appears to be one of those people who carefully untape and refold every sheet of wrapping paper as they go. The suspense is killing me and I know what's inside. I don't understand how he can move so slowly.

Finally he gets the paper off to reveal a pad of drawing paper. He gingerly sets the pad aside and then continues at his lethargic pace to extricate and unwrap everything in the bag. He never makes eye contact with me throughout the whole process. In the end he has a small pile of graphite and colored pencils, a box of pastels, even some watercolor paints and brushes sitting beside him.

Justin looks up at me then with evident confusion. He says nothing, but the questions he wants to ask are clear. 

"It's for your art. Just a thank you for all the hard work you put in helping me yesterday," I explain, trying to downplay the 'gift' part of it, emphasizing instead the idea of rewarding his work. "I was hoping you would come to my office with me today and put in a little more time working on this. It would be a big help if you'd join me when I meet with the art department to finalize everything. You could use some of these things when we're working on the boards."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I know Brian is waiting for me to say or do something. He's giving me all these wondrous things. What he doesn't know is that he's giving me more than just things - he's giving me back a piece of me. A piece to fill in that gaping hole inside me: My art. 

My heartbeat is racing and I feel like I can't get enough oxygen. The bleeding pain in my gut is throbbing uncomfortably. But I don't think any of this shows on the outside, because Brian is just sitting there waiting for me to do or say something. If he knew how battered I felt on the inside I think he'd be reacting somehow. 

Can I take these things and this missing puzzle piece of my lost self? There will be consequences, I'm sure of it. I'm afraid it will add to the pain. If I take back this missing piece and then for some reason it's torn away again, it might kill me. But I'm not sure I'm strong enough to resist and turn it away. My fingers want to feel the pencils in their grip - it's an almost physical need, now. I want to tear open the boxes, seize hold of a pastel and create something, anything, right now. But, would that pleasure be enough to justify the loss that will ensue later when it's all gone again? If I were smart I'd walk away now.

I'm not smart. I'm weak. I want these things. My father would love to see this. It completely justifies his opinion of me - that I'm weak, that I have no control and that I'm a whore to my desires. Well, who am I to disappoint dear old dad?

"Thank you, Brian," I say quietly, letting my fingertips glide over the pile of art supplies, slowly becoming comfortable with the thought that they are 'mine'.

"You're welcome, Sunshine," Brian says, his happiness that I've accepted his gift so clearly evident in his tone. "Do you think you can help me some more today at work?"

Brian may think he’s being subtle, but he’s not. I know he’s going to try to use this to keep me here longer. What I’m not sure of is whether or not I’m going to let it work. I actually kind of like the idea of seeing Brian’s work. I really enjoyed that part of yesterday. It felt so. . . . fulfilling? . . . to share ideas and work together with him. I know that it’s dangerous to give in to these feelings, these desires. But what the fuck - I’ve already admitted my weakness and accepted the art supplies, I might as well get totally fucked and let myself give in on this too.

And, since I’m being flagrantly weak and giving in to all my wanton, whorish desires this morning, I let myself have one more treat. I purposely get up from the kitchen stool, walk around the island and stand in front of Brian. Raising up onto my toes, but not looking Him in the eyes - I’m not that bold, yet - I KISS HIM on the lips. Just once. It is the most I can do - the most I have ever done. I can’t believe I’m being so out of control. I’m having trouble breathing again in reaction. But, I’m also secretly thrilled that I’ve dared this. 

“Thank you. I’d like that. I'd like to come to your work and help you on this, Brian,” I manage to say, in between gasping for air and trying to keep my body from imploding from the weight of the possible consequences of my actions.

Brian tries to hide his glee by rolling his lips in as he smiles. It's utterly useless since I can see in his eyes how excited he is by what I've said. It's pretty adorable though. God, what the hell has gotten into me this morning, I wonder. I haven't been this daring or bold in . . . Well, ever. And, no matter how scared I'm feeling at my recklessness, the tiny bit of pride I feel at giving Him back a little bit of happy makes it all worthwhile.

I just hope it doesn't all come crashing down on me later.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Yes! It worked! Not only did he accept the present of the art supplies, but he agreed to come with me to the office today. I think this means I have a chance to keep him from leaving today. The relief I get from that makes me feel ten pounds lighter. 

Oh yeah - he kissed me, too! 

So what if it wasn't the most passionate kiss ever. It was the first time Justin ever initiated any type of physical intimacy. That is a VERY good sign, I'm sure of it.

Fuck. When did I get to be so over-excited by a goddamned kiss? One that didn't even involve tongue? What-the-fuck-ever. I'll think of the consequences later. For now, I'm going to just concentrate on getting us to the office and engaging Justin in something that will take his mind off of leaving.

I'm still mindful of Justin's negative reaction to Emmett's clothing excesses, so I pick out something for him to wear and direct him to the shower while I call Cynthia and Ted to make some impromptu arrangements. By the time Justin is showered, dressed and has packed up his new art supplies, I'm dressed and ready to head out as well.

I really hope this works.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm admittedly impressed. First, Brian comes out of the bedroom wearing a beautiful designer suit - nothing like the expensive but casual clothing I've seen him in so far. Then, instead of the Jeep, he drives me to his office in an amazing forest green classic convertible Corvette. Finally, we arrive at his office - an outwardly unassuming building with a trendy 'Kinnetik Advertising' sign on the front - which turns out to be an incredibly elegant and well appointed office inside. I mean, I'd figured he had money from the look of the loft and the way he just casually tossed his credit card around, but I really had no idea he had this kinda dough.

He ushers me into the building and introduces me to his assistant, Cynthia, and his CFO, Ted, who I, of course, already know. I hear Brian immediately issuing directions: have the Daddies’ Board Shop team in his office in ten minutes; he wants to meet with the other ad execs at 10:00 am and then someone from the Art Dept. at 11:00; Cynthia needs to call this person and that person for reasons x,y and z; and, oh yeah, order in some food for the 10 o'clock meeting (this last direction was given with a smile at me - Brian's still very serious about sticking to the 'Feed and Care Instructions For Your New Twink' from the hospital and he seems convinced I'll waste away if not fed hourly).

"Make yourself at home, Sunshine," he says to me when we reach what I assume to be his office. 

I curl into the far corner of the big leather couch, pulling out my new sketch pad and the colored pencils that I've been itching to use. I try to make myself small and inconspicuous while Brian bustles about doing his corporate exec act. I'm feeling so content right now - it should be scaring the shit out of me, but I'm intentionally ignoring the tendrils of worry wriggling around back there. I'm trying to just let myself stay right here in the present. I'll think about it all later. Now, I just want to sit, draw and enjoy watching Him being all forceful and happily busy.

The first meeting - the one about the potential new client that I helped Brian with yesterday - goes well. Brian proudly introduces me to his team and beams at me as he shows them what I've drawn. I don't recognize the feelings his behavior causes inside me - I don't think I've ever felt like this before. I know that I've never experienced someone actually voicing pride in something I've done, something I've created. When the others start asking my opinion on various changes or expansions, I'm almost too surprised at first to respond, but I do in the end and I'm amazed that they are actually listening to what I say. 

At the second meeting, I'm a little less surprised when Brian introduces me to everyone. He encourages me to eat, rather than talk during this meeting. But I listen, fascinated, as he and his staff go over several campaigns in different stages, showing design ideas, display boards, copies of print media spots already completed, while Brian fires off his directions, ideas, kudos or recriminations. 

Watching Him in his element like this is eye opening. Brian is . . . well I have no words to describe how He is - it's a combination of forceful, excited, intense, intelligent and more that I can't even identify. If I was still capable of such feelings, I'd say He was incredibly sexy right now.

Every so often I feel Brian’s watching me like a physical touch. I raise my head and meet his gaze across the breadth of the room. Our shared smile is a secret it seems like only we can grasp. The space between us never feels far.

After that, Brian must think I'm getting bored, even though I'm not, since he directs Ted to give me a tour of the place while he finishes up with one particularly intransigent junior exec. As I'm gathering my stuff together, I hear Brian telling Ted to give me an empty desk in the art department. I also hear him quietly tell Ted not to let me leave. So silly. Like His pet accountant could keep me here if I really didn’t want to stay. 

With this hyperawareness I seem to now have related to His presence, I know exactly when he comes into the room where I've been sitting at an unused desk. He lays his sturdy large hands on my shoulders, massaging them slightly as he peeks to see what I'm drawing now.

"I know you didn't ask me to work on this," I start, apologetically. "I had an idea though. You don't have to . . . "

"Stop. You can work on anything you want to, Sunshine," he assures me, emphasizing his words with his lips, brushing a slight kiss against my cheek as he speaks. "I like this, too. I had noticed that Adrian's designs seemed to have some problems with their perspective, but this eliminates the issue entirely. It's great. We'll make sure he gets this later. Right now, though, it's lunchtime."

We walk the couple blocks over to the Diner. His friend Michael and a hulking big guy I haven't met yet are in the back booth, and Brian escorts me in that direction. 

"Mikey. Professor. How are the two of you on this fine winter afternoon?" Brian asks, in teasing mode, as he slides into the empty booth seat after me. "Mikey, you remember Justin? Ben, this is Justin. Justin, Ben here is Michael's other half. He's a professor at Carnegie Mellon."

More of Brian's friends to meet. For a guy who claims not to have many friends, he certainly spends a lot of time introducing me to people. I nod a greeting at Ben and then devote my attention to my menu to try to escape the renewed scrutiny from our lunch companions. Brian and the two others chat the whole time.

Brian and I happen to be sitting on the side of the booth facing the Diner's front door, which gives us a good view of the rest of the patrons. There's one other diner, in particular, whose attention seems fixed on our booth - he's tall, slender with longish dark hair and puppy-dog-sad brown eyes. After gazing in our direction for quite a while, he gets up, walks past the booth and moves on towards the rear of the restaurant where the restrooms are located. As he passes by our booth, his right hand trails along the edge of our table and continues up Brian's arm and shoulder. The man doesn't even glance sideways at Brian but he manages to get all his attention nonetheless. 

"Excuse me a minute," Brian says breathlessly as he quickly follows the enticing brunet into the back.

I'm not going to look up at all. I don't want to engage in conversation with Michael or Ben. I'm going to just keep focused on my menu. I very slowly and carefully read the printed descriptions of every single entree offered. When I'm done reading it through the first time, and Brian hasn't yet returned, I start over again at the top of the menu. 

Brian finally gets back before I've finished reading a second time through about the items 'From the Grill'. He's got a painfully blank expression on his face. Michael, on the other hand, in grinning adoringly at his friend in pure schoolboy fashion. Ben appears to be spending almost as much time contemplating his menu as I am.

"Did Deb come by for the orders yet," Brian asks, finally breaking the silence.

"Nope. She's been busy with that large table over by the door. You're good still, Bri," Michael replies, still smirking.

I'm busy trying to slide farther against the wall. Brian smells like sex and that man. I don't like the combination, and if I could, I'd get up and leave altogether. I'm trapped here, though, so all I can do is slide as far towards the wall as I can get, making myself as small as possible in the process.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

It had been days since I'd gotten sucked off - even longer since I'd fucked anyone - and I had a serious case of blue balls. Having Justin around 24/7, touching him, kissing him, even having him in my bed, and not being able to do anything about it wasn't helping. I really, really needed this. At least I thought I did.

But if that was the case, why was this fuck so unsatisfying? The guy was hot enough and his ass was just dying to be stuffed full of my aching, underused cock. But every time I looked at him I kept hoping to see blond hair, not brunet, and blue eyes, not brown. So, I got off, yeah, but it definitely lacked . . . something. 

Back at the booth Justin is trying his disappearing boy trick - making himself so small and quiet and still that if you didn't know he was there and weren't looking for him you wouldn't even see him. Ben is looking around at antthing but me. And Mikey's grinning at me with his patented 'My Best Friend Is So Cool Because He's Such A Rebel and Aren't I Cool By Extention' smile. Altogether, it combines to give me the distinct impression that I've somehow fucked up, royally, without knowing how. Again.

I figure my best recourse is to bluff my way through. So, I ignore them all, wave down Debbie, and start to give her my order.

"Have you decided, Sunshine?" I ask the lump in the corner of the booth that passes for Justin, but when I get no response I go ahead and order for him. "Bring him a Bacon Cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate shake, Deb."

"What's the matter, Sunshine? You're still looking a bit peaked. Isn't this asshole looking after you the way he should?" Deb addresses the lump of boy.

"I'm fine, Debbie. Thanks for asking," comes Justin's polite yet unhelpful response.

"Brian, that boy doesn't look good. You'd better be letting him get enough sleep, you hear me?" Deb starts in with her mother hen act. "I don't care what the hell your dick's telling you, I'm telling you that Justin needs rest and plenty of healthy food in order to get well. He does NOT need to be getting fucked backwards and forwards all hours of the day and night. If you can't keep your dick under control, I'm coming over there to collect Sunshine. Do you hear me?"

"Debbie, you don't need to lecture me. I'm not fucking him relentlessly day and night. And, even if I were it wouldn't be any of your business." I have to defend myself even though I know it's useless because she isn't even listening, most likely.

"It IS my business if I say it's my business." Debbie responds, slapping the back of my head as she stalks away.

"Ma! Leave Brian alone," Mikey simply has to add in his two cents. "He's doing a lot more for this kid than anybody else. Brian didn't have to take him in and he shouldn't have to change his whole lifestyle just because he's trying to do a good thing."

"Shut the fuck up, Michael. You don't know what you're talking about any more than your mother does. You both need to back off and stay the fuck out of stuff that isn't ANY of your business." I'm getting really pissed off at both the Novotny's now. 

"Brian, I'm just . . . "

"I know what you're just doing, Mikey, and you need to stop. Okay?"

"Fine. Whatever, Brian. See if I ever stand up for you again. . . " Michael's protests eventually wind down just in time for our food to arrive.

Justin is still huddled in the corner, though, and doesn't even look up when his food comes. He looks so small again. I was getting used to him being a little more confident - maybe not physically larger but when he was drawing or working with me on Kinnetik stuff he somehow seemed larger. Now he's back to being a small hurt little kid. It gives me a sour taste in my mouth and a trickle of fear drips down my spine.

"Justin? What is it?" I lean in to ask him quietly, but he recoils even further from me. "Please, Justin. I don't know what I've done wrong. You have to talk to me, Sunshine."

"Brian, can I speak to you a sec," Ben speaks up for the first time, getting to his feet and indicating to me that he wants me to follow.

"Sure. I'll be right back, Justin," I reassure him as I get up to follow Ben, who is already stepping through the front door. 

"What's up, Ben?" I ask when we're standing outside in the frigid cold.

"Well, I'm not a professional psychologist or anything, but I was watching Justin while you, Michael and Deb were arguing just now and I think you've got a lot bigger problem on your hands than just a sick street kid," Ben starts to explain. "His reaction was pretty much typical of someone who's suffered from longterm abuse. He seemed to initially have a negative reaction when you went with that trick - he got quiet and started to withdraw. But when you came back and then started to argue with your family, it got a lot worse, fast."

"The more the three of you argued, the more frightened and withdrawn Justin became. He probably came from an abusive household where that type of argument was pretty commonplace and usually preceded something even worse. I know that you three argue like that all the time and to you its just another way you show concern for each other, but someone from a highly abused background, like I think Justin is, won't be able to see that. It's only going to frighten him. I think you might be in over your head, Brian. This kid probably needs extensive professional help."

"I know you're right, Ben. Shit. The little that Justin's told me . . . well, it makes my childhood seem like a fairy tale. I don't think he'll be open to getting any professional help, though. I'm struggling just to get him to agree to stay with me," I'm actually happy to confide in Ben, who I respect a lot. "Ben, whatever anyone else thinks, I haven't touched him - well, I've touched him, but, I mean, I haven't fucked him - he's too fragile, you know? I want to help him, though. What do I do?"

"I don't know, Brian. If he's not open to getting help, all you really can do is be there for him." Ben says, laying a large sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

"That's kind of the problem. I could only get him to agree to stay with me through today. I'm afraid he's going to insist on leaving and then . . . If he goes back out there on the streets, Ben, I have a bad feeling that he won't last very long."

"You're doing the best you can, Brian. It's all you can do." Ben says, then turns to go back inside.

Except that the best I can do just doesn't seem to be enough.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"I don't care what the hell your dick's been telling you . . ." Debbie yells at Brian, but in my mind, the voice belongs to someone else.

'I don't care what the hell your dick's been telling you, boy. I will NOT have you fucking around with some hot little piece of brown sugar. The next thing you know, you'll be getting her pregnant and we'll be paying through the nose for the bitch to be sitting around on welfare raising another unwanted half-breed spawn who'll grow up to be just as worthless as it's mother." my father is lecturing me as I huddle at the dining room table across from my mother.

'Craig, I think you're jumping to conclusions,' my mother tries weakly to defend me. 'Justin and Daphne are both good, smart kids. They're simply good friends. They aren't like that.'

'Yeah, right, and if you believe that I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you. How naive can you be, Jennifer. You know as well as I do that this little pervert has no control over what he does with his dick. If he's sleeping with her, he's sticking his dick in her and it's just a matter of time till you and I are raising a fucking mulatto brat.'

I would laugh at him if I wasn't so fucking petrified of where this was heading. I'd still managed to keep the one little piece of info that I knew would end it all out of his awareness - if he only knew how far off base he was about Daphne and I he would shit a brick. But there's no way in hell I'm going to tell him I'm gay.

'I see, as usual, that I'm going to be the only one willing to stand up and make the hard calls here, Jennifer,' Craig says, pretending to be put out by having to be the disciplinarian, but inwardly relishing another chance to use his power to grind me into the dirt. 'Justin, you are forbidden to see this Daphne girl ever again. I will not have you fucking around with her and I'm not going to be forced into raising some half-breed brat. Do you hear me, Son?'

'Please, dad, don't say that. Daphne and I have been friends since we were five. She's my only friend. I swear we're not like that. We're just friends.'

I'm pleading. He's long ago driven away any other friends I've ever had. Without Daphne I'll have no one. Then I see that thin, tight lipped smile he gets, which he immediately tries to hide, and I realize that's exactly what he wants. 

It doesn't matter what excuse he's come up with. His real purpose is to separate me and Daphne. This isn't about me asking to stay over there this weekend. This is about something different. I wrack my brain to figure it out and then suddenly remember that call he got three nights ago when he sent me out of the room. 

That was the day Daphne met with the guidance counselor at school. She promised me she wouldn't say anything. But, she must have let something slip. Damn it. That call must have been from the school. And now Craig is using this excuse to punish me and to keep Daph away as well. 

I'm not going to let him do it this time. I'm not. I'll sit and pretend to listen and agree with him, but I'm not going to let him take Daphne away too.

"Justin? Justin. Hey, Justin, please snap out of it. You're scaring me." Brian's voice finally seeps through the memories from that other time, and I blink to try to focus back on him.

"I think he's coming around. Everybody needs to just back away and give him some air, please. Thanks," that's Ben's deep baritone voice.

Why am I lying on the bench of the booth, halfway under the table? I don't remember how I got here. I see several faces looking down at me, most of which I don't recognize. What the hell's going on? I try to sit up but it's awkward because of the angle of the table. Brian is there helping me immediately. 

"What the hell was that, Brian," Michael is stage whispering over my head. "One minute he's sitting there all quiet and then he's passed out on the bench? Should we take him back to the hospital do you think?

"No!" I state emphatically.

"Shhh, Justin," Brian is there, his arm around me, warding off the others who are staring. "I already promised you no doctors, remember? It's okay. I've got you. It's okay."

"I think we should let Brian handle this, Michael," Ben is saying, trying to hush his partner's continued offers of helpful advice as he single handedly manhandles Michael and Debbie away from where Brian and I are now sitting alone.

My head is throbbing. My mouth is dry and my pulse is racing. I'm only sure I'm still sitting here because of the reassuring weight of Brian's arm around my waist.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Fuck. My heart is pounding a million miles an hour. That fucking scared the shit out of me. Ben and I are just coming back into the Diner when I hear yelling and look over to see a dozen bodies milling around the booth where we'd been sitting. 

I race over and instantly panic because I can't see Justin. Michael is leaning over the table saying something and gesticulating wildly while some tall dark skinned man is bending over and pulling on what looks like Justin's arm. I shove the man out of the way and slide into the booth, lifting Justin's head up onto my thigh. 

Thankfully, I can see he's breathing, panting almost, so I don't do anything other than sit and wait and talk to him. It only takes a moment or two before his eyelids begin to flutter and then he's fully awake again, blinking and looking around confused. He tries to sit up but can't without help because of the overhanging table. So I help him. He seems fine after that, except he's still a little confused. Ben gets Debbie and Michael away in a flash and I take advantage of the reprieve to get Justin out of there as fast as I can.

Memo to self - no more Novotny family time for Sunshine for a while.

We make it back to Kinnetik and I deposit him on the couch in my office, pulling out a spare blanket we keep for emergencies from the closet to cover him. I'm not sure if maybe I'm not the one going into shock though - I'm shaking, my skin feels clammy and my head aches ferociously. I decide that I would be wise to share Justin's blanket and I sit close to him, pulling the warm comforting boy and his blanket over, breathing in his closeness until we've both calmed a little.

Cynthia is hovering, confused and unsure of what to do when I finally look up. It's very disconcerting and un-Cynthia-like. I guess it's good to know I can still surprise her occasionally - I wouldn't want her to get too complacent in her job, now would I?

"Hey, Cynthia. I think Justin and I have had enough fun for one day. Would you mind calling us a cab. Oh, and here are my keys - can you ask Ted to drive the Corvette back to the loft for me later?" I quietly issue directions.

I wonder what the fuck happened to all the easy going happiness from this morning and how things could change so abruptly and so drastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how this chapter came together - even though it did end up being about 2x longer than all the rest of the chapters so far. The contrast between the easy-going morning - where Justin's being all daring, trying new things and enjoying himself for once, and Brian is being so proud of him - with the events that happen at the Diner, is so perfect for the story. Hope all of you thought so as well. TAG


	12. Resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting progress but not complete resolution. Justin comes to a decision about whether or not to stay with Brian. But, that decision has some interesting side effects. Brian is once again put in an awkward position forcing him even more OOC. But, he handles it with aplomb as always. Go Brian! Hope you enjoy this emotion packed chapter - I added just a sprinkling of smut for all you lusty readers, as well as a little bit of humor since I felt the need to balance out several past chapters of over the top angst. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 12 - Resolution.

Resolution: The act of determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.; The mental state or quality of having a firmness of purpose.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

The warmth of the bed tries to pull me back towards unconsciousness but I’m rested enough and I don’t want to go. I need to be awake to think. Now is a good time, too, since Brian is still sleeping here in bed next to me. My time is up and I need to figure out what I’m going to do. 

This is it - it’s definitely afternoon. In fact, judging by how dark it is outside the windows it’s probably closer to evening than afternoon. I’d told Brian I would stay with him until this afternoon. My time is up and now I have to make a decision. If I really want to go, then I should do it now, while he’s still asleep. It will be easier if I just leave right now without confronting him. The problem is, I’m not sure if that’s what I want to do any more.

I carefully extricate myself from his always encircling arms and scoot far enough away from Brian to prop myself up and look down at his handsome sleeping face. I like it that whenever we’re together it seems like Brian has a need to be touching and holding me. Even in his sleep, he seems to gravitate towards wrapping me in his embrace. It’s very comforting and . . . . . nice. 

He’s a good man. I could see that from the start. He didn’t have to take me in here. He tries so hard to care for me - make me eat properly, buy me clothing and medicine, even buy me what I need to feel more whole like the art supplies. 

That’s sort of the problem. He’s nice. He’s kind. I like him. I’m even sort of beginning to trust him. That’s always a bad thing. 

You should never trust anyone. If you trust them, allow them inside your defenses where they can see the real you, then you WILL get hurt. I’ve always been hurt when I trusted anyone. I don’t want to be hurt ever again. That’s one of the reasons I’m where I’m at now - living on the streets you don’t get put in a position where you feel the need to trust and that means you will always be safe from the pain.

Well, at least I thought I was safe. Until I somehow managed to pass out in front of Emmett’s store and ended up as Brian Kinney’s ward. Now, like it or not, I’ve started to trust Brian and I’m already feeling like it’s too much. I know it’s only a matter of time now before I get hurt again. Even though I don’t think Brian will mean to hurt me, it’s inevitable. However, I could walk away right now and never look back and the pain I would feel would probably be bearable. If I stay any longer, it will only get worse. But, If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I want to leave, even knowing how I’m setting myself up for more hurt. 

I let my hand brush over the soft, clean cotton sheets on Brian’s bed. It’s nice sleeping in a warm, safe, clean bed again. I stoke my hand over my stomach. It’s so VERY nice to feel full and to know that it’s likely that I’ll have plenty to eat no matter when I get up. My eyes trail over the pile of clothing Brian took off me when he put me in bed earlier. It’s even nice to have clean, warm clothing again - clothing that I’m not embarrassed to be seen in.

But those are just the physical things about staying here. They are nice but I could, and have, lived without them and I could do it again if I had to. It’s much harder to gauge all the less tangible things about staying here and whether or not I want to give them up. 

I like feeling safe - or at least as safe as anyone can be in this shitty world - but I feel at least physically safe here. No one is likely to come rob me of the few dollars I have left from my last John or knife me for my shoes or jacket. You can never be sure you are safe on the streets. 

I like feeling useful. Working with Brian yesterday here at the loft and today at his office was eye opening. I’ve never felt like my opinions or talents were worth anything. Today, I felt different. It felt like other people cared what I thought and even, maybe, appreciated what I was doing. I even got the impression that Brian was proud of me and what I was doing and saying. That was one of the best moments of my entire life. I can’t even begin to explain how that made me feel - I don’t have the right words to describe those feelings. I liked it a lot, though. I’d really like to feel that way again - it was addictive, I think.

Okay, now for the more difficult admission - I like feeling cared for by Brian. Ugh. That hurts just thinking it. I know how stupid it is to set myself up like this. I KNOW BETTER. But, I can’t seem to help myself. I like knowing he’ll be there to take care of me when I’m scared or having a bad nightmare. It’s so pathetically childish, I know. But I can’t seem to turn off these feelings either. It feels good to be here with him.

Looking down now on his strong features, relaxed in sleep, I can see every line, every fold of his expressive, handsome face. I can’t seem to get enough of just looking at him. I wish I hadn’t left my sketch pad and pencils at Brian’s office - I would love to draw him right now. 

When I think about leaving him, I get this tight feeling in my chest and I can’t seem to get enough breath. He’s said that he wants me to stay. He hasn’t said for how long though. What if it’s only for a few more days or weeks. He’s never said he wants me to stay forever - and even if he had I wouldn’t ever believe something as ludicrous as that. I’m not that gullible. But, so what? What if it is only for a few more days? Is it worth it to enjoy a few more days here where I so want to be when I know that the longer I stay the harder it will be when it ends? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Brian sniffs in his sleep and rolls towards me, automatically reaching out to ensure himself of my continued presence. When his hand brushes against my hip, he gets this sweet, little smile on his lips. It’s a completely unconscious gesture - free of any pretension or guile - and it’s all that was needed to sway my decision irrevocably. I want this. I want to be here with Him. I want this man and I want Him to want me, to want to keep me with Him. I don’t care about the consequences. I want to stay.

Decision made. I’m going to stay. At least for the time being. And, I’m going to find a way to make him want to keep me. 

It shouldn’t be too hard. I have been doing this for a living for a while now. I know how to make a man want me. It’s part of my job, right? Well, I’ll just consider this part of the job too - he’ll keep me here and I’ll keep him entertained so that he wants to keep me. It’s just quid pro quo.

Looking down at the beautiful, toned and muscled body, I admit that it won’t really be that hard to force myself to entertain him. The sheet fell away when he rolled over just now and I can see all of him down to that very pretty cock of his. He’s half hard already and I allow myself a moment to admire the long lines of that well shaped and generous cock. If I’m honest, I almost want that part of him too - even though I don’t really have those feelings any more. 

After what I’ve been remembering the past few days about my father, I have a pretty good idea why I don’t have those feelings any more. The goddamned fucker. He’s really fucked me up royally, hasn’t he? I really wish I could feel like that about Brian. If anyone, it would be Him.  
I don’t need that though. I can do this, regardless. I’ve even figured out how to get myself a little hard sometimes when a John really wanted to suck me off. I don’t ever really feel it, but I can pretend. And, I know that’s what Brian wants, so I can do it for him too. I don’t want to watch him going off with another trick again - funny how that felt so. . . . . I don’t know, but not good. I can do what I have to in order to keep Brian happy, though. I can be what he wants and give him anything that trick could. 

And, then he’ll want me to stay here with him for longer.  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Mmmm. I’m having a really great dream. Ahhhh, yes! Someone with really talented lips and an amazing tongue is worshiping my cock. It starts with a long, slow, wet tongue tracing its way from my balls all the way down to the head. Then the tongue delicately flicks in and out of the sensitive slit a couple times causing my dick to jump and twitch. And, finally, a wet, slippery mouth encompasses all, sucking me in hard and making me hard at the same time.

That's about when I realize I'm not asleep and this isn't a dream. This is Justin. His mop of long, wild, golden hair is covering my crotch, ticking at my belly and along my inner thighs, as his head bobs up and down. Underneath that golden screen, I can feel his full lips hugging along the length of my fully engorged cock, his tongue twirling intricate patterns over the skin of the head, licking and sliding over the hard ridge and stroking along the length of the shaft.

With each bob, my dick sinks deeper into his throat. The sense of suction is increasing. He's speeding up now, too. Ohhh, he's good. Really, really good. Then, all possibility of rational cognitive thought disappears completely as he deep throats me and all I'm aware of from that point on are the rolling waves of pleasure flowing out from my dick to the far reaches of my body. My fingers are curled into Justin's glorious blond locks. My toes are curled into the sheets still covering them. I'm not sure, since my eyelids are close, but I think even my eyes are curled back into my skull.

That's when Justin, using the utmost of skill, takes me all the way over the edge. At the same time he cups my balls delicately in one hand, sticks a wet, questing index finger from his other hand up my asshole, and starts to hum in the back of his throat as he swallows me deep one more time, wiggling his nose in my pubes when he can't get me any deeper. There's no slow build up, no gradual cresting of waves of pleasure - fuck, no, this feels like a nuclear explosion has just gone off in my gut and I'm shooting so hard and such quantities down his throat that I'm amazed he isn't drowning

It takes quite a while for the neural synapses connecting my brain to any part of my body other than my dick to re-initiate to the point that I'm physically capable of thought or speech. The first thought I manage is 'Man, he's fucking fantastic. That's absolutely best blow job I've ever had in my long and promiscuous life.'

I don't get to the more rational and questioning, 'What the fuck was that for?' and, 'Why is Justin giving me a blow job, when not more than an hour or two ago he was practically catatonic with fear?', for a minute or so more. I mean, far be it from me to refuse a blow job that fantastic, but something about this isn't right. I'm going to have to clear my head enough to figure out what's wrong very soon. As soon as my breathing is back to normal, I decide.

Justin isn't going to make returning to rational thought easy though. He's already crawling up my body, leaving sweet little wet trails of kisses on my torso. When his lips meet mine and I can taste my jizz on his tongue, I almost forget again what I'd meant to ask him. 

But, when he sits up on my chest, wriggling his ass provocatively over my groin with that simpering, unattractive little smile on his face, it dawns on me - this is 'Hustler Justin', not my sweet, unassuming, needs to be cared for and protected Justin. I'm not a huge fan of Hustler Justin - it's just so evidently a fake persona for him. Not to mention that I don't want to be hustled. At least when I'm able to think rationally, that is.

"Hey, Justin. Whoa. Slow down there, Sunshine," I'm saying as I ward off his questing hands, obviously determined to prepare my cock for Act II. "Not that I didn't enjoy the wake up call, but you don't need to do this, Justin. Really. I'm good for now. Let's slow down a bit."

Fuck - Brian Kinney telling a naked twink in my bed to slow down and that I'm not interested in fucking? Are pigs flying outside the windows? Is the world coming to an end? Where is this coming from?

Justin is pretending not to hear though and he's already reaching toward the bowl of condoms on the nightstand with one hand. With the other hand, he’s got a firm grip on my dick and is stroking me, bringing me back to a semi-hard state already, in spite of the phenomenal blow job. If I’m going to stop this, I need to act quickly since I’m already losing my train of thought again. God that feels so good. See, what did I tell you?

“Justin. Stop. Justin!” I finally get his attention by practically crawling out of the bed from under him, toppling him and freeing my cock from his nefarious clutches at the same time. “Please, Justin. Can you just stop for a minute and talk to me? Okay?”

“What’s wrong, Brian? You liked it didn’t you?” Justin simpers some more, crawling on hands and knees after me across the bed. “I know you want this. I watched you earlier with that trick at the Diner. And, I heard what Debbie was saying - you didn’t deny it. You want to fuck me. I know you do and you should. I shouldn’t be acting so selfish. So, just fuck me already. I want you to. You want to do it. So, just do it already.” 

“Shit. This is about that trick. Justin, I didn’t go with that trick to make you feel guilty or anything. I just really needed to get off. It meant nothing. He wanted it and so did I, that was all. You understand that, right?” I’m trying to explain but obviously doing a shitty job at it since it isn’t deterring the predatory twink crawling around on the bed in pursuit of my admittedly willing cock. “Justin, please stop, okay? I can’t think straight with you crawling around on the bed naked like that. Please. Just. Stop.”

“I don’t want you to think ‘straight’ Brian,” Justin jokes. “I want you to think about me. I want you to think about fucking me. Sticking that enormous, beautiful cock up my ass and fucking me. That’s what you should be thinking about, Brian. There’s absolutely nothing ‘straight’ about that.”

I’m finally driven completely out of bed at this point since Justin uses that last ‘straight’ to launch himself at me. There’s definitely something really, REALLY wrong here - I’m scrambling to find my pants, practically running away from a beautiful naked man begging me to fuck him. This is really, REALLY wrong. But I don’t stop to contemplate the wrongness - I simply flee from the scene, practically running towards the kitchen to escape from the terrifying twink and my predictable response if he does actually corner me in my present condition (i.e., hard as a steel rod). 

I grab a bottle of water, thinking to hopefully cool off my libido as well as quench my thirst. I’m panting like I just ran a marathon. Oh, fuck it - drinking the water isn’t working, so I just pull the waistband of the sweat pants I’m wearing away from my body and dump the remains of the ice cold water bottle down my crotch. Which, by the way, does work quite well and relieves my hard on almost instantly. I sigh at the relief I get from once again feeling all rational brain connections fully functioning. 

It may not work for long though, since a naked Justin has followed me out of the bedroom and I can’t help but like what I see. I haven’t really gotten a chance to see Justin fully naked before. He’s always had at least his briefs on before. And, while I could tell he had a nice package, what I see now is more than just ‘nice’. It’s . . . ‘respectable’. And, the full effect of that trim, compact body, not an ounce of extra body fat except maybe in the rear on that ample bubble butt of his, along with his lovely thick cock bouncing against his thighs as he walks, is almost enough to counter the ice water still dripping from my pubes. 

The only thing saving me from a return to ‘Rocky’ is the look on Justin’s face. He’s still trying to maintain that affected and ingratiating little smile, which luckily for me, is a complete turn off. Before he gets to me, I decide to take control of the situation instead of letting him continue to run the show. I reach over, grab Justin by the hand and pull him after me to the couch, where I wrap him in a conveniently situated blanket. Once I have the naked Justin factor under control, I sit next to him and, holding both his struggling hands captive in my own, begin to deal with this situation. 

“Justin, why are you doing this? I thought we’d discussed this already,” I start the discussion as soon as I feel calm enough to do it right. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to have sex with me. Not because of you staying here and definitely not because of me going off with some stupid, meaningless trick or because of some mindless drivel Debbie said.”

“You said that if we both felt the same it would be okay,” Justin interrupts, chewing on his lip again in that adorable manner he has when he’s worried or thinking. “I’m feeling a lot better. I know you want this or you would have told Debbie that we weren’t. . . . Well, I’ve decided I want this too. I want you to fuck me. So, what’s the problem, Brian? I want to do this for you. Please let me.”

“I’m not sure, Justin. You say you want this, but it just doesn’t feel right,” I try to explain, even though I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, either. “It feels like. . . like I’m just another client you’re trying to service. It doesn’t feel like you want ME. It makes me think that you’re just doing this out of some feeling of obligation or . . . something. I don’t know, but it’s not you. Not the Justin that I want. This is you being a good little hustler and . . . I guess I want more. Does that make any sense?”

“But, I do want you, Brian,” Justin is on the verge of tears again, I can hear it in his voice. “I want to do this for you. I want. . . I want to . . . to stay.”

The last words are said so very quietly that I’m almost not sure I hear them. But as soon as their meaning reaches my consciousness, I feel elated. He wants to stay. He’s not going to leave. That’s . . . that is all I wanted, ever. I’m almost so overwhelmed by this declaration that I let myself get distracted from our real conversation. Almost.

“That’s fabulous, Justin. I’m so happy that you want to stay here, with me. But, I told you before that you don’t have to feel obligated just because you’re staying here. I don’t expect you to reciprocate just because you want to stay here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I don’t expect you to let me fuck you in return. Not until you’re ready, okay.”

“But, I do want you, Brian. I do. It’s just that I can’t. . . I don’t. . . I don’t have those feelings any more. My father. . .” Justin stops and I watch the struggle in this face as he fights for control over what he feels and what he wants to tell me. “I want you to want me. I can be what you want and I can give you anything that a trick could. I want to do this for you. Please let me.”

“Justin, you’re breaking my heart, you know that right?” I say as I once again scoop him into my arms. “I wish I could make this all right for you. I wish I could make it so none of this ever happened. I do want you, Justin. I want you to stay with me for. . . for as long as you like. I want to be with you - in whatever way you can be with me. Maybe we’ll get to the point where there’s more, Justin, but for now, I’m happy just being here with you like this. Okay?”

“I DON’T want you to try to replace a fucking stupid trick - I don’t think of you like that. You are so much more than that faceless trick could ever be. And, I hardly ever listen to anything Debbie says to me - so you shouldn’t either. It doesn’t matter what she thinks I need or what anyone thinks my motivations are. You know, that, right? I just want you here and I want to be here for you,” my explanations start to falter, but I’m trying to get this out and be honest and open with Justin, since I know that is what he needs more than anything else. 

“Let’s just . . . take it slow, okay? I want you to be completely comfortable with whatever we decide to do. It’s okay with me if you can’t . . . “

“Shit. I’m hopeless at this, Sunshine. I’m pretty much the last person you ever want to have a conversation about feelings with, you know. My father did his own number on me - maybe not the same as what you went through - but one of my hangups has always been talking about shit like feelings. It’s not ‘manly’ - at least not according to my Pops.” 

“So, we’re both a little fucked up, you know. If you can bear with my shit, I’ll try to do the same, okay? Just, don’t . . . you don’t have to be what you’re not. Not for me or for anybody. And part of that is not pretending to be ready to fuck if you’re really not.” 

Justin is tucked into my side. He’s sniffling a little but not overly upset and I think I’ve finally managed to explain myself adequately. I’m glad he’s decided to stay. 

I’m fucking exhausted though by all this emotional bullshit. The world didn’t come to an end though. I talked about my feelings with another man and apparently it’s okay. Fuck. What the hell is the world coming to?


	13. Inception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is still trying to be the noble gentleman and avoid jumping Justin, but Justin isn't happy about it. Justin had a plan and Brian isn't complying with it. How can they resolve this? Brian comes up with a 'Plan' of his own - I'm not saying its a good plan, an ethical plan or even a workable plan, but it is a plan. Which is a start, right? TAG

Chapter 13 - Inception.

Inception: The initial stage of a developmental process.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

'. . . you don't have to be what you're not. Not for me or for anybody. And part of that is not pretending to be ready to fuck if you're really not.'

That's what Brian said. He's still holding me and he sounded sincere when he said all of this. But the words really don't make any sense. How could a man like Brian ever really be content to be with someone and not be able to fuck him.

The few comments I've heard from Brian's friends completely undermine everything he's just said to me. His friends are just waiting till he gets tired of me before they expect to see him back fucking everything that moves. His foster mother believes he's fucking me. Even his best friend, Michael, seems convinced that Brian and I are fucking. Basically, from everything I've heard, Brian Kinney doesn't sound like the type to have platonic relationships. 

So, even if he's sincere now, I figure that's unlikely to remain the case for long. Face it - nice guy or not, if he's not getting his needs met by me, he's bound to move on to someone else who will meet them. Which means I only have a limited amount of time to figure this out. I've decided I want to stay and I'm determined to find a way to work this. Whatever I was doing that tipped him off that I wasn't into this wholeheartedly, well I have to determine what it was and fix it. I need to make Brian want me around as much as I want to stay. I will figure this out, somehow.

"Brian, what if I never can get those feelings back? I really do want to be with you. But, I haven't been able to . . . I don't get those feelings any more. Ever. Not since my father . . . " How much do I tell him without completely freaking him out, I wonder. "I do want to be with you, so why is it a problem if I can't . . . you know? You can still do everything you want to me."

"Enough. You're a determined little Twat, aren't you," Brian says, half teasing but also half serious. "Justin, I want you, too. I've never in my entire life had a blow job like that one. And, you're about the hottest piece of ass I've ever had here in the loft. I swear that if you were really ready, I'd be on you in no time flat. In fact, I'm probably more surprised than you are that I haven't already jumped your ass, ready or not. I guess I just want to be sure that it's what you really want too. So, please just believe me for now when I say I'm serious about doing this right and taking things slow."

Hmm? He sounds so sincere. Fine. I'll go slow-ish. But, nothing says I can't push things a little. 

"You're sure you won't be angry with me if I can't . . ." I ask as unassumingly as possible.

"I'm sure, Justin."

"Does that mean no kissing, either?"

"Do you want to kiss me? I mean, really?" Brian asks, but I can already tell I've hooked him.

"Yes. Please."

And that's all it takes to get Him to start making out with me there on the couch. I won't push it. I won't push Him, because I really do like him and I want to be here. But, I'm not giving up on this either because . . . I don't trust him. No matter what he says and no matter that I think he really believes what he's saying right now, I'm not that naive - I know that there's no way this can work if he's not fucking me. 

So I'll find a way to get him to fuck me and I'll make this work. And I won't let myself feel guilty about manipulating him like this. I know better than to trust anyone in this kind of situation. It's just the way things are, right? I have to do this because, the nicer he acts towards me, the more I want to stay.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Excuse me, has anyone seen a dick lying around here? I think I've lost mine. I mean, really - there's this fucking beautiful naked man sitting on my lap, begging me to fuck him and I just told him no? Am I completely insane? 

I can understand that I did the noble thing the first time - despite what some people think about me, I'm not a complete asshole - I would never take advantage of someone in a bad situation just for my own pleasure. Justin was sick and he's been abused and that first time he offered himself to me I can see why I backed off.

I can even see why I did the same earlier tonight - still doing the noble gentleman thing, right? But, he's still doing it - he's practically throwing his hot naked litte ass right onto my dick and I'm still telling him no? What is my fucking problem? 

Right now, Justin is sitting in my lap, the blanket I wrapped around him earlier fallen so that it's barely covering one of his thighs. His wiry strong yet thin arms are around my neck, pulling me in tighter. His soft, soft, pliant and talented lips are busy kissing me, licking, nibbling at my lips, my jaw, my neck. Remind me why I'm trying to keep my hands from wandering over that flawless, warm skin? Why do I still vaguely feel that I shouldn't be doing this? How the fuck can I think clearly with my hands and my lap full of naked twink? 

I really need to get some space - physically - from this situation in order to think. Either that or I need to throw Justin down on the floor right now and fuck him senseless. No, there WAS a reason I had told him that I didn't want this. I can't remember what that reason is right at this very moment, but I'm not going to let myself be manipulated that easily.

Space. Yes, get up and move away and get some space. That's the first thing to do. 

Food. That's a good excuse. He needs food. We didn't really get to eat much of our lunches, what with him passing out at the Diner and all. So, I'll get up, go get us dinner and get my head a little clear and figure this out. Good plan, Kinney.

"Hey. I'm getting hungry. How about you?" I manage between tongue fuckings. "I should go pick us up some dinner. Justin? Dinner?"

I can tell by the growling of his stomach that I have some part of his attention, at least. I gently extricate myself from his groping hands, sliding him off my lap and stand up, pulling my lips away last of all. It's not easy to pull away from that lusty naked body. Only the tiny alarm bells still going off in a closed chamber at the very back of my brain make it at all possible.

"I'll be back soon, okay. How about another cheeseburger to replace that one you didn't get to eat earlier?"

Justin's nod is all the answer I need. I notice that he's still chewing away on his lip, which means everything is not exactly fine in Justin's world. But, since I'm still apparently dickless, I don't need to struggle too hard against the thought that surfaces telling me how adorable that little habit is, do I?

Returning from the bedroom, now fully dressed, I let my fingers run through his hair as I pass him, still seated nakedly on the sofa. "Later."

I'm not more than a block away, walking because I really can use the cool night air to help clear my head, before I pop out my cell and dial the only person who's had any concrete ideas about this situation so far.

"You've got to help me, Professor. I'm so fucking totally in over my freaking head. What do I do?" I practically cry into the phone as soon as I hear Ben's voice saying 'hello'.

"Is everything okay, Brian?" Ben's tone is full of genuine concern.

"No. It's not okay. I have no idea how to help Justin. I really want to - call it payback for what my own father did or whatever, but I need to do this. I need to help him, but I'm fucking lost here. So, help me, Ben. Tell me at least where to start."

"You did hear me say that I'm not a psychologist, right? And that you probably need professional help?" Ben tries to qualify his involvement.

"Yeah. And you saw his reaction to Michael's suggestion about taking him to a doctor right?" I counter. "I did get him to agree to stay with me for a while longer, but that's not going to make much difference if I can't figure out how to get through to him."

"Well, generally speaking, the approach towards treatment for all types of abuse is to get the victim to work through his fears, process his memories and work through all the pain. There are some specific therapies, especially for the PTSD related symptoms - I'd have to research those a bit more, though. However, the overall treatment is fairly simple."

"What the fuck does all that mean, Ben?"

"You have to talk to him, Brian. Get him to talk about what happened to him and then work through how it's still affecting his life today," Ben's suggestion is simple but so fucking complicated at the same time, damn it. "You could start with what happened today. That was a significant dissociative event - that means it was a 'big deal'. Find out what he was remembering, what triggered it and why he practically passed out from the memory."

“Okay. Talk to him. I can do that,” I offer.

“It’s not that simple, Brian,” Ben is laughing on the other end of the line. “Once you get him to start talking there’s going to be a lot of stress. And you’re not exactly the poster-boy for people who handle stress well.”

“Thank you for the advice, Professor, but I can do without the added commentary,” I interrupt him before he really gets into listing my limitations, but I’m not quite ready to hang up yet either, so I have to remain sort of polite. “So, Ben, what about the other part - you know, what I told you about not fucking him? That would probably be a really bad idea, right?”

“I don’t know, Brian. It’s your call,” Ben is still chuckling, but I can tell he’s serious too. “Adult survivors of child abuse have a really hard time forming stable relationships. They tend to find it really hard to trust their partners. They can be cold and manipulative at times and at other times completely insecure and easily hurt. Plus, they have a very hard time opening up and being accessible with their feelings, which makes knowing what your partner wants and how to please him pretty difficult. “

“Great. So, he’s me, just even more screwed up - is that what you’re telling me?”

“Pretty much. Plus, if you decide to pursue a sexual relationship with him before he’s worked through some of these issues, it might just exacerbate his current problems. You need to be careful, Brian. Not only is Justin likely to get even more hurt, but, you’ll get hurt too,” Ben cautions.

“Fuck. Or, I guess I should say, no fuck,” I say with resignation. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t already know that, I was just hoping for a second opinion, you know. It’s just not that easy to remember all this when there’s a gorgeous naked blond sprawled on your bed. Thanks, Ben.”

“Anytime, Brian. And, I’ll look up those other therapies for you, they might help if you do get him to open up and talk.”

“Later.”

I hang up on Ben just as I arrive at the Diner and reach to open the door. Debbie is still there, unfortunately, so I have to spend the entire time my order is cooking reassuring her about Justin’s well-being. At least we don’t have the ‘stop fucking the shit out of the patient’ discussion again, because I might lose it big time if we had to do that one again. I guess I finally reassure her enough though, since she finally lets me leave with a paper bag full of take out boxes and a cardboard drink caddy. 

On the walk home I carefully work out a strategy on how to handle my dire twink situation. Brian Kinney has always been at his best when he has a good solid plan to work from. And, this one should, hopefully, get me what I want and, eventually, get Justin what he seems to want too. I just have to sell it to him the right way. But, who better to sell something than an Ad Man? 

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I’m not happy about how Brian was acting when he left here earlier. It was like he was running away from me. Fuck. I’m fucking this up already, aren’t I? 

I wish I knew him better so I could know what he liked and then I’d know how to approach this. I was practically throwing myself at him though and he just got up and ran away. What more can I do? Probably nothing. He probably just really doesn’t like me that way. I know what he said, but if that were true he wouldn’t have run away from me. I can’t change the fact that I’m broken and useless and can’t please him the way he really wants. I wish I could. I wish I could be what he wants. 

I’m terrified that he won’t want me to stay now. I made my play and utterly failed. He’s going to come back and throw me out, isn’t he? Why did I tell him I wanted to stay? Why did I do it? Now, he’s going to come back and toss me out and I’ve already let him in and it’s going to fucking hurt. Why can’t I do anything right? Ever? I’m such a fucking loser - I should have known not to even try this. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. . . .

“I’m back, Sunshine.” I hear Brian say as he bustles in through the door, while I sit where I’ve been ever since he left, rocking back and forth, trying not to explode with worry. “I’ve got you a replacement bacon cheeseburger and fries. Hope you’re hungry.”

He sets the bag full of food on the kitchen counter and then comes around to the front of the couch, looking at me with concern. He doesn’t sit next to me though. He looks down at me for a few moments, then walks off to the bedroom and comes back with a pile of clothing which he lays in my lap. He does ruffle my hair affectionately a little, but he doesn’t stay. He goes back over to the kitchen island and starts to serve the food, putting my burger and fries on a plate which he sets in front of one of the kitchen stools. I’m putting on the clothing he left me in the meantime.

“Justin. Come. You need to eat, Sunshine,” Brian directs, his voice soft but insistent. 

I do as I’m told - no sense in making it worse than it already is, right? I might as well get one more good solid meal out of this deal before he kicks me out. But, it’s hard to make myself eat. The food all tastes the same and I wish He would stop watching as if he’s making sure I finish it all. I remember my father used to watch me eat like that. It’s making me nervous and I’m even less hungry than I was before.

“What’s wrong with your food?” Brian asks, still watching as I barely choke down another bite. “If it’s too cold I can nuke it for you.”

“It’s fine,” I lie.

Brian puts down his own sandwich and looks at me intently. He’s obviously mulling over what he’s going to say to me. I put the burger down and sit quietly, waiting for him to finally get around to it. I’m ready, I guess. I will just get my old clothes out of the bureau where I saw him put them and that’s all I really need. Maybe he’ll let me keep the coat and the new shoes, I think. They would be really nice to have - it’s pretty cold out there still, although it’s not as cold as it was the day Emmett found me. 

Brian interrupts my contemplation of what I may and may not be able to take when I leave by capturing my hands and pulling my body around to face him. 

“I wish I could tell what was going through your brain when you get like this, Sunshine,” Brian says, smiling at me. “I see the wheels turning so fast that It’s almost frightening. But, I can’t tell what the thoughts are that are making the wheels spin. This would be so much easier, you know if I could just tell what was going on in there.”

“You don’t want to know,” I say, simply. “It’s not a nice place.”

“Yeah. That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? But, I’ve got a plan to fix that,” Brian says. “Let’s go sit at the table and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, okay?”

Shit. This is it. I can feel the tears of anger boiling up in my eyes. I don’t want to cry in front of him again. Why is my body always betraying me like this. I don’t want to let him see how much this is going to hurt. I blink furiously to keep the tears back as I follow him to the table.

“I was talking to Ben earlier, Justin, and he said some pretty intelligent things. Which isn’t all that surprising since he is a Professor,” Brian is trying to ‘lighten the mood’ - fuck him, I wish he would just get it over with. “He said that you won’t get better until you talk about what’s happened to you and work through it a bit. Now, I know that you don’t want to go to any doctors - don’t worry, I’m not suggesting that at all - but, I thought that maybe you could talk to me. I’ve been there, you know. Maybe not the same things you’ve experienced, but I can at least understand what you’ve gone through a little.”

“I can’t promise you that I’ll know what to do or say to help you. I can’t even promise that I won’t fuck it up altogether. All I’ll promise is that I’ll listen. I’ll be there for you if you’ll agree to talk to me and tell me what it is that’s happened to hurt you like this.” Brian is speaking in a low voice, while he holds my hand and rubs little ticklish runes into my palm. “And, I know it won’t be easy, for either of us, Sunshine. So, I thought we could make it less horrible by having a reward waiting at the end - you know, like an incentive program?”

I’m listening. I almost quit listening to him when he started in about talking and working things, out. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve been handed that line before and I wasn’t going back to that. But, Brian caught my attention with the idea of an incentive program. That’s new. I wonder what kind of incentives he’s thinking of offering.

"Here's my proposal, Sunshine," Brian looks at me, his eyes weighing my response as he speaks. "First, you have to promise to give me one week - let's say until midnight next Monday. During the day you can come with me to work or you can stay here or you can go out on your own - I don't really care, but you can't leave here for good. Both of us have to agree that we'll be back here every night by, say, six thirty.

"Second, you and I will talk every night, even if you don't want to. Even if I don't want to. We will try to do the therapy shit that Ben says you have to do before you can get better. And, don't give me that look - I don't particularly go in for all this new age therapy crap either, but I'm willing to try it for one fucking week and if I can put up with it, so can you."

"Third - assuming we don't crack before the end of the week - if you stick with me for the entire time, and provided you still want to when we're done, I'll fuck you. But until the week is up you have to agree to back off with the whole temptation thing, okay? Trust me, you're plenty tempting just sitting there fully dressed. I won't be able to concentrate on anything all week if you're constantly traipsing around naked and plopping down in my lap every time I sit. You have to understand, Justin, I do find you very, very, very attractive - that isnt the problem - its just that, I don't think me fucking you is going to help matters much. At least not in the long run. So, no matter how much I want you, and no matter how much you think you want me, we need to hold off."

"Let's at least give it one week and see if that doesn't change your mind, okay?" Brian says as his voice fades along with the end of his pitch.

"So, I agree to stay and do this pseudo therapy shit for one week, at the end of which you finally fuck me, and then what?" I ask.

"I don't know what happens then. You'll be free to go if you want, I guess, but I hope you won't want to." Brian responds, not exactly answering my real question.

"And, if I don't want to go? What then?"

"You'll stay, I guess." Brian replies almost sheepishly.

"For how long?"

"I don't know, Justin. I can't promise you anything, okay. Can't we just do this for one week and then figure out what comes next when we get there?"

Brian looks even more uncomfortable than me at this point, which I find incredibly humorous since this whole ridiculous plan is his idea. But, altogether, I suppose it's not such a bad deal. I get to stay for a minimum of one week - there are no promises after that, but really when do you get assurances about anything in life. At the end of the week, he'll finally fuck me and I'll get the chance to try and make him see that keeping me longer is a really good idea for him. In the meantime, there's no more pressure and I don't have to worry about being tossed out on a daily basis if I don't/can't perform. 

So what's the downside? I have to agree to talk about things I don’t want to even think about, let alone discuss. With someone I don't particularly want to have know all my secrets. And there's no guarantee this will even work. At the end of the week Brian may just throw me out in spite of everything. Meanwhile, I've let him get in deeper, inside my defenses. The deeper I let him in, the more likely he is to hurt me. How badly do I really want to stay here?

I don't really want to be Brian's pet psychology project. I don’t want to be fixed. I can't be fixed. I know it's impossible. I've been told enough times by my father that I'm hopeless and I can never be fixed. Why the fuck does Brian feel like he has to fix me, anyway?

Maybe I should just leave. I know what I decided earlier but that was before all this psycho babble shit. I just wanted to stay here with Him, be with him here where it was safe and warm and clean. I wanted to be with Him so I could feel him near me and know he was here. I want to have him touch me and hold me when he's asleep and I want to feel protected and cared for. But. . .

But, once he knows what's really inside me, he won't want to do any of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone in the profession for the completely unethical approach Brian is pursing towards Justin's 'therapy'. I KNOW that you shouln't try to talk someone into therapy by promising them sex but we're talking Brian here - He thinks you have to use sex to sell everything. And for the life of me, even after two rewritings, I couldn't come up with anything that would motivate these characters better than sex. So. . . . . you see what my dilemma was? Anyway, I'm truly sorry for any offense I may cause by pursuing this plot line. All derogatory comments will be read in abject shame and acknowledged in the same manner. But I'm not changing my story. SO THERE! (Author childishly stomping foot and sticking tongue out and faceless masses!) TAG


	14. Flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian starts with his 'alternative' form of therapy. It doesn't go all that smoothly though. You'll see. TAG
> 
> *** Warning - graphic descriptions of child abuse ***

Chapter 14 - Flashback.

Flashback: A sudden and disturbing vivid memory of an event in the past, typically as the result of psychological trauma.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I can see by the way his eyes are darting around, anywhere but on me, that he's not sold on my proposal yet. I watch, with a growing feeling of dread, as he gets up and walks over to the large loft windows, staring off into the city lights as he muses over what I've said. He presses the palm of one hand against the cold pane of glass, his face a mask of misery and fear, while he works through how he'll respond. 

A good salesman knows when to push his product, though. Anytime you see your target start to waiver, you step in and distract him before he can voice that 'no' that's hovering unsaid on his lips. So, I hop up and interject the first distraction I come across.

"Look. It's snowing again," I say as I point out a few large flakes drifting downward outside the window. "You can't go back out there tonight, Justin. Please. Just stay and let's try this. Please."

I back my plea with a touch. I purposefully come up behind him, place my hands on his slim hips and use my leverage to pull him back against my body. I'm hoping that the contrast between our warm bodies pressed together and the stark, cold desolate picture outside the window will win him over.

I get the impression that he almost longs to be back out there on the street. I can empathize - things are always less complicated when you have fewer choices. On the street, his only choices are where to sleep, when to eat (assuming there's even enough money for food), and how to make enough money to buy the food. There are no complicated questions like, 'should I risk opening up to this virtual stranger and telling him all my secrets'.

Maybe if I start?

"My older sister, Claire, was a mistake. But my parents were Catholic, so there wasn't any question about what my father was expected to do. I've got to give him a little credit for at least stepping up to the plate on that, I guess," I start telling him, whispering my story into his golden hair, though I have no idea why I'm sharing this particular story. "They got married. But things were already going downhill fast when my mother discovered she was pregnant with me less than two years later. Dad wasn't so gullible or so religious or whatever by that point, and he promptly demanded that Joan go get an abortion. Joan wouldn't do it though. And, here I am, thirty-some years later as proof.

"But, my father never let me forget how little I was wanted. He must have told me that story a hundred times. It was almost like he was proud of trying to get rid of me before I was even born. I never told him how much it pissed me off every time he told me the story, though. I just sat there and listened and said nothing. I wish now I'd told him just once what a fucking asshole he was for always rubbing that into my face."

"It was my mother," I hear Justin saying after I eventually fall silent. "She used to say she sometimes wished I'd never been born. She wasn't saying it to be mean, though. She was just sad and didn't want me to have to suffer. She would usually be crying when she said it. Usually after my father had done something mean."

"Did he hit you?" I had to ask, even though I was afraid of what the answer would be.

"No. Not really. I mean, I got spanked occasionally just like any other kid when I was little. And when I was older he slapped me once, but I was really mouthing off to him that time - It was right before I left. But other than that he didn't hit me."

I guess that's good." I offer, although I'm not sure what even more horrible shit Justin must have gone through - what was worse than getting hit, that could have caused what I've seen.

"Today at the Diner - you remembered something about your dad, didn't you?" I've got my arms wrapped firmly around him now so he should feel supported when I finally get around to asking him about the incident from earlier. "Can you tell me what you remembered?"

"Did your Dad know you were gay," he asks me, completely out of the blue.

"No. I didn't tell him until a couple months before he died."

"Me neither. At least not at the time. I knew I was gay by the time I was fifteen, maybe earlier. But I knew not to tell my father. He definitely doesn't approve of homosexuality," Justin seems lost in his memory - it's as if he's talking to himself now, unaware of my presence at all. "It's funny that he never figured it out, though. Well, maybe he did but never admitted it to himself. Maybe that's why things kept getting worse and worse about that same time. I wonder."

"Anyway, my best friend was a girl named Daphne. We were pretty much inseparable from the age of five until the end of my sophomore year. We would always sleep over at each others houses - well, more at her house than at mine. We shared everything: books, music, gossip, even sometimes clothes. We were always together at school and lots of the time away from school too."

"By the time we were sophomores, things at home were getting pretty tough for me. I started falling behind in school, I was falling asleep in classes and other shit. So I got called into the school counsellor's office a lot. I didn't tell her anything, of course - my father would have been really, really pissed off at me for that.

But, after I got in a fight with someone outside the boy's locker room - because I'd been watching the jocks soap their dicks in the shower and got caught, of course - the counsellor called Daph in to see if she would give some explanations about what was going on with her best friend. Daph let something slip about how I was having trouble with my father - I'm sure it was something relatively innocuous that Daph didn't think would get me into trouble. But, the counsellor called my father to discuss it and the whole thing resulted in my father making up some lame ass excuse to justify forbidding me from hanging out with Daphne ever again."

"I had this idea that I could fight him. I wasn't going to let him get away with this. I waited till everyone was asleep and snuck out to go see her. I told Daph a little about what was happening then. We talked almost all night. We had some childish plan about how I would come live with her and everything would be all better," that memory makes me laugh. "My father figured out where I was the next morning and when he and Daph's mom found us, we were spooned up together, in our underwear, sound asleep in her bed. They of course assumed we were intimate. He said the meanest things about her and to her. And to her parents. Nobody listened to anything Daph or I tried to say. See, my sneaking out only helped his plan more. I played right into his hands and gave him the excuse he needed. I was so stupid."

"By the time he was done, Daphne was crying, her parents had insisted that I leave and never come back and my father had accomplished his real goal, which was to strip me of the last person in the world who cared about me. He'd taken my last friend away. After that he even pulled me out of school - said I'd be better off being 'home schooled'. It was like my mother's wish had come true - it was just like I'd never been born, like I didn't exist at all. No one knew or cared if I was alive. No one saw when I disappeared."

"You didn't disappear. You're here now," I say, holding him tightly in my arms to demonstrate my point.

"No. That boy is gone. He's dead. I'm nobody."

No one said anything for a very long time after that. We just stood there together - each one's physical presence supporting the other and reminding us that we were really still here. Justin was so quiet again and so still. I didn't know how he could say what he had without becoming furious. I was - inside I was screaming and raging and I wanted to hit his father over and over again. Outwardly, though, I was almost as calm as he was. I wondered if inside he was just as angry but even better at hiding it than me.

"Why did you think of that when we were at the Diner?" is all I can think of to ask, even though it no longer seems important. 

"It was something Debbie said - when she was arguing with you she used the same words my father said to me that day. 'I don’t care what the hell your dick is telling you . . . '," Justin's imitation of Debbie is spot on. "Isn't that strange? Two such very different people in two completely different circumstances, using the same phrase? What are the odds, huh?"

"Didn't you ever see Daphne ever again?" I eventually ask.

"No. After that he pretty much kept me inside and didn't let me see anyone. I didn't get to see hardly anyone for weeks at a time, sometimes. Not until I finally left."

"What about then. Did you go see her after you left?"

"No. She wouldn't like me. I'm not the person she was friends with for all those years. It's better that that boy just disappeared."

Outside the window the snow is coming down much more thickly now. I briefly notice the way it creates a halo effect around the street lights below. It's going to be another miserably cold night out there and I'm glad my Sunshine will be here, inside, with me, instead.

"See, we can do this, Justin," I say, finally breaking the silence after several long sad moments. 

"But what good does it do? I don't feel any better. Do you?" Justin asks.

"No, I actually feel really shitty right now and I'd like to find your father and beat him to a bloody pulp. That's Jack's influence, I know, but sometimes I'm almost willing to concede he had a point," I snort softly and shake my head at the admission, but I don't want to go there now. "I don't know if this did any good at all, Justin. But, it didn't kill us either."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I remove myself from Brian's clasp and walk back to the couch. Every place on my body where He was touching me still vibrates with his energy. I can feel where his lips were whispering into my hair and my scalp, where his fingers gripped my upper arm, where his other hand touched the skin on my stomach, his pinky hooked around a belt loop so his fingers could keep up their constant little motions without losing their place. 

Brian's physical self is so overwhelming and demanding, sometimes it almost makes me forget there is anything outside this room. It's nice to be able to escape from the outside world. And even the bad memories we've been talking about just now feel distant - like they can't touch me while I'm here with Brian.

I can distance myself and escape from the memories, but what I can't escape is the sensation of the bitter cold wind inside me, gusting through that torn place in my gut where my father made a hole in me. The feel of the wind even has a ghost of a sound that I hear in my head - it's a high pitched wailing noise, like you'd hear at the coast on a stormy day, or when a child is crying and rocking himself to sleep alone in his room. I can deal with the memories. But I'd really like to stop the wind inside and the noise it brings with it.

"One week." I say to Brian, as I retreat, for now, back to the comfort and safety of Brian's bed.  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

We're lying in bed, our limbs loosely threaded together. I wait and listen as Justin's breathing gradually changes, deepens and evens out. I lie awake a lot longer, feeling the rhythms of my body as they gradually slow, matching his.

I hope Ben is right and that we can fix this. Talking about the horrors of our individual childhoods doesn't strike ME as being very productive. It just seems to bring the hurt and sadness back closer to the surface. I'd been able to keep that particular memory of Jack pretty far down in my subconscious for a long time. Now it was right there staring me in the face, so to speak. This is going to help Justin, how exactly?

I do finally fall asleep, Justin's fragile frame still near enough that I'll hopefully know when his demons come back, which they inevitably do in the night. I don't have long to wait, either. I feel him getting restless and hear his incoherent complaints before very long. I'm actually getting rather good at his, I think. I curl my body around him protectively, shoosh him gently until he quiets. And we both settle back to sleep without Justin even coming fully awake.

I really hope Ben is right about all this.

All this mid-day napping and early to bed crap has my body clock really confused. I don't think I've been this well rested since I got my first fake ID. Which probably explains why I'm wide awake at 5:30 am. So, what do I do for the next two hours until it's time for me to get up for work?

Justin is lying next to me on his back, his limbs akimbo. I can smell his warm young man scent pervading everything around me and, being so well rested, it doesn't take any time at all for the sight and smell of him to get me incredibly aroused. I made him and myself a promise, though. I'm not going to give in to my desires. I'm going to get out of bed right now, take a cold shower and not think about the boy lying in my bed wearing only a pair of tight, skimpy briefs.

That's what I tell myself. However, as I start to slide out from under the duvet, my movement rouses Justin, who rolls over, pulling my wrist with him as if to use my arm as a cover. This maneuver causes the front of my body to come into contact with his entire length while my innocent right hand just happens to land conveniently on top of his crotch.

And, he's hard. For the first time since he's been here.

The sight and smell of him, the feel of him pressed against me, my cock achingly hard, held between our bodies, and now his hard dick in my hand. I'm not a fucking saint. No one would be able to stop themselves under these circumstances, right?

I grab onto that lovely, thick anchor, through the thin cotton briefs, and start to rub my thumb lightly over the head. There's the tiniest bit of wetness leaking through at the tip and it eggs me on. I can't control that tightening feel in my gut at the same time my own cock twitches a little in anticipation against his thigh. My hand is gripping more tightly now and I let myself stroke him a little more forcefully.

Even that might have been alright if I hadn't lost control even more and let out a gasping moan. "Unh, Justin. . . "

"Mmmm, Brian," I hear as Justin sighs contentedly and moves to snuggle back into my groin even more. 

 

That's when he freezes. His body becomes stiff and his breathing becomes ragged. I can feel his heartbeat racing. That beautiful handful of boner I had, vanishes almost instantly and he jerks himself away out of my hand. All I'm left with is an armful of trembling blond who is in full blown panic mode already, struggling to get away from me.

"Please, stop. No. I didn't mean to. Really. I'm so sorry. It'll never, ever happen again. I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it. Please don't. Not again, please. . . "

Justin is crawling away from me across the bed. He's begging and pleading with me - to do what, I don't know. I'm still sitting here immobilized with shock and surprise. He doesn't start to quiet until he's all the way in the corner of the room, partially hidden by the night stand. But even then he's still obviously not here in the present  
moment. His eyes are focused on something or, more likely, someone who's not here and he continues to mutter while tears stream down his beautiful scared face

I couldn't have just kept my fucking hands to myself?

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm not even fully awake when he yanks the blankets off me and commences yelling about how I'm an abomination, a sinner, a deviant of the worst kind and not fit to live in a decent home where I'm an embarrassment to my family. What the fuck does he expect? What sixteen year old doesn't wake up with morning wood and his hand on his crotch? He expects me to be able to control my autonomic body responses now too? I wasn't even doing anything. I was asleep for fucks sake. Fuck this.

I'm just about to finally stand up to the asshole for the first time and tell him exactly what I think of his ridiculous demands when he abruptly walks out of the room. Moments later he returns, my mother now being hauled after him. She's standing there still blinking, still only half herself.

Before I can react to this new development, he stomps over to where I'm sitting, grabs a handful of my hair in one hand, yanking my head back and towing me to my feet, while he clenches the waistband of my pajama pants with his other hand and literally tears them off me. I'm half standing, half cringing, completely exposed in front of my parents, with an involuntary hard on and my father ranting about my deviant behavior. I watch, horrified, while my mother drops to her knees, crying, her hands trying to cover her face to hide her own embarrassment.

My father uses the painful leverage he has on my hair to force me to my knees and then throws my head down, releasing my hair finally. I try to catch myself with my hands, but he kicks them out from under me with one easy motion of his foot, causing me to fall flat on my stomach, my chin knocking painfully on the hard wooden flooring at the same time.

'See what you're doing to your Mother, you ungrateful little piece of shit,' he's screaming at me, pointing at my weeping mother. 'I've told you before, boy, that you will not abuse yourself in my house. How many times have you been told? Huh? Answer me! How many times have I told you that this behavior will NOT be tolerated?'

'Many times,' I answer, my head bowed in submission the way I know he expects, no longer in the mood to try to stand up to him. 

'And you're not repentant at all, are you? Well, we'll see what another day of prayer does for you. Get up and get the belt.'

'Father, please, I wasn't doing anything. I was asleep. Really. Please. I've already learned my lesson and I never ever do anything inappropriate like that anymore.'

'Are you calling me a liar, you little son of a bitch? Are you going to try to deny what your mother and I just saw with our own eyes?'

'Craig, please, calm down,' my mother tries to intervene. 'I think you're overreacting. Can't we just . . . '

'You think I'm overreacting, do you? Do you know what this little pervert is up here in his room doing all the time, Jenn? Do you want to know? Well I'll show you, and then you can tell me if I'm just overreacting, hmm.'

Then, father stalks over to me and hoists me back up to my knees. 'Show your mother what it is you're spending all your time up here doing, boy. GO ON! I want her to see just what it is her precious little boy is doing with his dick all day. Then we'll discuss exactly what punishment is appropriate.'

'Craig, this isn't necessary.'

'Do it, you little pervert. NOW!'

'Father, please. I don't want to do this. I promise I'll be better. Please.'

'Don't you dare disobey me on top of everything else, young man. Either you do what I say right this mInute or you won't eat again for the rest of the week. I swear to god I'll lock that door and I won't open it again till its time for church on Sunday.'

Oh god! It's already been two days since the last time he let me out to eat. My stomach clenches painfully at the thought of going even another day, let alone the rest of the week, without food. I have no choice.

Closing my eyes to try to hold back the hot angry tears that refuse to stop, I reach down and begin fisting myself. I lost my hard on about ten seconds after he tore my clothes off, but he doesn't care. I'm expected to put on a show to prove how depraved and perverted I am. That's what he demands. Whether or not I'm in the mood for it really doesn't come into consideration. So I keep pumping, ineffectively, while he goes on about MY indecency.

'Open your fucking eyes up, boy. I want you to see what you're doing to your family. I want you to see just how hurt and humiliated your mother is by your actions. This is all your fault and until you learn to control yourself, boy, you'll keep hurting her like this.'

So I open my eyes and watch my mother crying while I jack off in front of her at my father's direction. 

All in the name of decency.

 

"Justin. Sunshine. Please talk to me. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I had no idea . . . What can I do? . . . "

I'm confused. It sounds like Brian's voice, but it can't be. Brian wouldn't be kneeling on the floor next to me crying. My head is pounding and I can't seem to focus my eyes very well. But, the person kneeling next to me, talking to me, sounds like Brian. I need to figure out what's wrong and help him, but I'm having trouble concentrating.

This damn migraine makes everything seem fuzzy, as if the whole world was wrapped in a thin layer of cotton. Thankfully it's dark in here or I'd be in even more pain. I try to slow my breathing and focus my thoughts - that typically will help push the headache pain away far enough that I can get to somewhere safe and quiet where I can rest till its gone. So I try to ignore the sounds of fear and crying and focus on breathing for a few minutes.

I do manage to reach out my hand and find His, which seems to cause the sounds of panic to stop. Once that distraction is gone, it's remarkably easier to concentrate. He's sitting next to me, now, squeezing my hand but thankfully not otherwise touching me - I get so sensitive to even the slightest touch when I get these headaches, so I'm glad Brian isn't trying to comfort me in his usual manner.

"Justin, can you please just tell me what I can do to help you. You look like you're physically on pain. What can I do?" Brian says in a much calmer voice.

"Aspirin. Not Tylenol, though, please. Just plain aspirin," I manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scary chapter. Justin is remembering lots of horrible stuff happening. And, poor Brian. Like Ben said, this is going to be just as hard on him as it is on Justin. Not to mention opening up his whole childhood of demons as well. Can't really say much more other than, sorry it's a hard chapter to read and it was a hard chapter to write too. TAG.


	15. Disclosure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the beginning of the better times for Brian and Justin - it was much easier to write and hopefully a little happier, although things are not always going to go smoothly for the boys in their new 'therapy program'. But, so far, so good. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 15 - Disclosure.

Disclosure: The act of making new or previously secret information known.  
~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian is back almost before I notice he's gone. He's got a large glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. That's strange - his hands are shaking and he's having trouble getting the bottle open. I take it from him, open it easily and dump several into my palm without bothering to count them, then swallow before handing the bottle and the empty glass back to him. 

Brian kindly just let's me sit for a few minutes until the aspirin starts to take effect. He's still sitting on his knees in front of me when I finally open my eyes. His face looks blanked out - like someone took an eraser to it to try to wipe off all the emotions. But, his eyes shine through full of pain and fear and . . . Guilt?

"Justin, I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know what to say - normally I'd be the first one to tell you that saying 'I'm sorry' is bullshit, that it's what you do that counts and by the time you get around to 'sorry' it's too late, but, really, this time I mean it. I had no idea this would happen and I'm kicking myself for what I did. I really, truly am sorry . . . "

"Brian, stop," I say, grabbing one of his flailing hands to halt his incessant apology. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Brian."

He lets out his breath in a whoosh then, not quite looking me in the eyes, he starts to explain. "It was me. I did this . . . I didn't mean to but . . . I was, um, playing with you, you see. I woke up early and you were still sleeping but you had this huge boner. It's the first time I saw you like that since you got here, and I couldn't resist. I started rubbing you and I was getting pretty hard myself and . . . Well, the next thing I know you're crying and crawling away from me and then . . . "

"Oh. Yeah, well, that would probably do it," I respond, maybe a tad too nonchalantly.

"What? What do you mean, 'that would do it'? Are you accusing me of something? I swear I didn't know that any of this would happen, Justin."

"No, Brian. I'm not saying that at all. It's just that, I can see where that would set me off. It's kinda happened before, so I can see why what you did would cause the same reaction."

"This, THIS, has happened before? What happened at the Diner was bad enough, but you're telling me this happens to you so often that you're not surprised by it at all? Fuck!" Brian curses as he collapses backward until his body is leaning against the edge of the bed, his mouth open slightly in pain and a single tear running down his left cheek.

"Brian? What I meant was that you didn't do this. It's not your fault. Please, Brian. Don't do this," I'm still struggling with the pain and fuzzy-headedness from the migraine and I'm not sure how to fix this but I'm sure that I don't like seeing Brian this sad and vulnerable.

When Brian still doesn't respond, I'm sure that he's had that change of heart I knew was coming. I knew that what was inside me was ugly and probably too much for anyone to handle. Brian had no idea what he was setting himself up for when he proposed this whole 'therapy' idea. I guess it was always only been a matter of time before he came to his senses.

"I knew this was a bad idea. I'm sorry for scaring you. Just give me a minute and I'll be out of your hair," I start to get up but his strong hand darts out quickly to stop me.

"Stop. You're not going. Just . . . just give me a couple minutes to process this, okay. But, don't leave, please."

So we sit together on the floor for a long time while Brian thinks. When he finally has a grip on himself, he pulls me with him back onto the bed and tugs the blankets up to wrap around us. I hadn't realized how cold it was sitting on the hard wood floor for so long. We're both half frozen, but Brian's hands chafe against my arms allowing friction generated heat to build up and surround us.

He's really a good man. I can't believe he would be willing to do this - to put up with this. It really wasn't his fault either. I wouldn't have minded in the least if he wanted to play with me - not that I'd be able to stay hard for long, probably, but I wouldn't have minded if I'd been awake. I'm just not good with getting taken by surprise with that type of thing, you know. 

It has happened before, twice, when I've made the mistake of falling asleep when I was with a John. They were both pretty freaked out too - of course neither of them took me back into their bed and held me until I felt better, either. All in all, Brian is handling this rather well, I would say.

But, I wouldn't hold it against him if he decides he wants to back out of our arrangement now that he has a better idea of what it involves.  
~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I can't believe he's so complaisant and unconcerned by these episodes. I'm still shaking. Watching him just about scares the shit out of me and I'm not the one reliving the nightmares. Once again I wonder if I can do this. Can I help him at all, or am I only going to make it worse?

"Brian, it's really okay. You can do whatever you want to me. Just make sure I'm really awake first. If not, sometimes my brain gets a little confused is all. I wouldn't mind if you want to play with me, in fact I'd really like it if you would. You said we couldn't fuck, but . . . " Justin offers, completely unconcerned.

I just barely manage to hide the shudder the idea of touching him now brings on. It's not this kid's fault. But I'm not touching him again until some of this shit gets resolved no matter how itchy my dick gets.

"You were talking to someone and crying. Do you remember what that was about - what happened to bring that on?" I ask, the morbid curiosity too much for me.

"No. That one, I never remember. I just wake up with a migraine that hurts Iike a mother."

"What did I do to bring it on? It wasn't just because I touched you - we touch all the time. Maybe not like that, but in other intimate ways. And I'm sure you've . . . well when you were hustling you let them touch you. You don't always have that reaction?"

"No. I told you, it's only when I'm not quite awake. The rest of the time, I'm fine. Wanna test it out," he says, waggling his eyebrows at me, still trying to distract me. 

"I don't think so, Sunshine. Sorry, but I'm still freaking a little here," I say, but I try to smile to lessen the impact of my words.

Right then my alarm finally goes off, causing both Justin and me to jump but breaking the tension as well. This is not how I thought I'd be spending the last two hours. Too bad my other plans didn't work out. I can't believe what an ass I was, though. I can't say I don't regret what I caused here this morning. And I'm definitely sorry, even if the words themselves are bullshit. I promise myself not to ever cause Justin to have that reaction again if I can help it. The only problem is that until I know what exactly triggered this episode I won't know what not to do. Which means we'll have to pursue this a lot further, no matter how tough it is. We have a fun night ahead of us, I'm afraid.

"We should talk more about this tonight, Sunshine. But for now let's get up and showered and I need to get to work. I need to finalized that campaign you thought up. Do you want to come or stay here today?"

"I'll come with you to work," Justin says eagerly. "Can I help with the final display boards?"

"I was hoping you'd offer. Come on, Sunshine."

The rest of the day goes great. I spend the morning in meetings while Justin is happily ensconced in his spot at the empty desk in the art department. From what he told me later as well as what I heard from Ted and other employees, he is getting along with everyone and has been coaxed into helping out on a couple of additional projects already. I have lunch brought in rather than subject Justin to another trip to the Diner with the accompanying Novotny family drama.

After lunch we take a field trip over to Ript Gym for a photo shoot using some of my buddies for the Daddies Board Shop campaign. Justin, I think, enjoys himself there, although I'm not sure what he thinks about all the guys coming on to him and handing him phone numbers. He's smiling when we leave though so I'm not going to worry too much. 

So we get through the day without any further drama. Although I'm still on edge and feel like I'm walking on eggshells all day waiting for another episode. I'm not looking forward to night two of our therapy plan. I don't think Justin is either since he seems to get jumpier as the clock nears 6:00. And, since I feel we can both use a little fortification before our little private session, I decide to risk a stop at Woody's on the way home.

Since Ben, Michael has become a lot more of a homebody these days. Which means I rarely see him out at the bar or the club on weeknights. Unfortunately, tonight seems to be one of the few nights he's not home trimming his pubes with the professor. Instead he's propped against the bar just waiting as Justin and I come in the door.

It's not that I don't like seeing Michael, don't get me wrong. I love him like a brother, but he doesn't always think before he opens his mouth. Strike that - he never thinks before he opens his mouth. His greeting to us is a case in point.

"Hey, Brian! About time you got here. I was just about to call you," Michael crows as soon as he sees me, completely ignoring Justin. "Are you going to Babylon later? Ben has some faculty meeting tonight so I'm free all night if you want to hang out. I just talked to Em and he's on his way over with his latest squeeze, some doctor type, I guess. I think he's maybe a shrink or something. Hey, maybe he could take a look at your pet twink over there for you. . . "

I watch as Justin's eyes get huge at the mere mention of meeting with a doctor. Way to go, Mikey!

"Good evening, Michael. It's lovely to see you tonight as well. My pet twink here, who by the way does have a name, would probably greet you as well if you had been polite enough to say hello to him," I begin the manners lesson as I pull out the barstool next to my friend. "Now, as for the rest of your breathless diatribe, no, I'm not going to Babylon tonight - Justin and I already have plans - and, further, we won't be asking Emmett's latest fuck to examine Justin, regardless of whether or not he's a real doctor. Now, how about you start this conversation over, more politely, and say hello to Justin before you launch into planning my social calendar for the night."

"Shut up, you asshole," is Michael's predictable response. "I get enough lectures on fucking manners from Ma and Ben. Lay off, won't ya. Sorry, Justin. I didn't mean anything by all that."

"See, Justin. I told you that underneath that rude exterior was a cranky, slightly less rude young man," I comment, eliciting a small chuckle from Justin, who visibly relaxes on the barstool next to me.

We manage to survive the rest of the next hour at the bar with the guys. Emmett's new love interest turned out to be a podiatrist, NOT a psychiatrist, which goes a long way towards reassuring Sunshine. And Ted shows up, too, after not much longer, which is good because he's always served as a moderating influence on Michael - at least when Ben isn't around. So we end up leaving Woody's a little more relaxed than before and I'm sort of ready for another night trying to crack Justin's shell.

"Do you want to stop for dinner on the way home or just order in?" I ask as we get into the Vette.

Justin's lack of response gets my attention at once. I'm not sure why a simple question like where or what we should eat should stump him so badly. He's doing the lip chewing thing though so I know there's some problem. It's a sure sign that we should just get to the loft and get started on our work anyway, so I don't bother stopping on the way.

As soon as we get inside I try a little experiment. I hand Justin a stack of take out menus. It's quite a handful - I don't edit any out, but instead give him the whole shebang.

"Why don't you pick something out for us to eat," I direct him, immediately walking away to change out of my business suit.

When I come back five minutes later, he's still standing in the same spot with all the menus in his hands, looking down at the pile but not going through them. It's as if he's frozen in time. He obviously can't deal with making this choice - a choice most people wouldn't find difficult in the least. Just decide what type of food you're hungry for, find a decent looking restaurant that serves that kind of food, look at the menu and choose your entree and then call in your order. I pretty much do it daily. Justin can't, though.

Taking the menus out of his hands, I lean my forehead against his and smile to reassure him it's okay. Then I send him off to wait on the couch while I order Thai and grab two beers from the fridge for us. Time to get started.

"What's the food thing about, Sunshine?" I ask to get the ball rolling.

"Um. I just . . . I can't choose, you know. It's too much. Too much to choose from. How do you pick from so much," Justin is having trouble explaining.

"It's more than just that, though," I try to frame my question better to help him focus on a real answer. "You can't choose what you want to eat a lot of the time, I see that, and I even kind of get it that someone who’s been living on the streets without much to eat would have trouble dealing with an overabundance like that. But there's also what happens when you don't think you can finish your meal and you get all nervous. Then there's the time you broke down crying when I tried to give you that piece of chocolate cake. So talk to me, Sunshine. Tell me about the food, shit."

"He used food to control me." Justin answers simply with a tiny shrug as if that were a normal thing to say.

"Your father?"

"Yeah. If I didn't do what he wanted he would lock me in my room and I wouldn't get food for days sometimes," Justin's explanation is given so calmly and he speaks with too little emotion as he says these things - that's almost as frightening to me as what he's saying. "He had the only key. My mother was afraid of what he'd do to me if she went against him, so she mostly wouldn't try to stop him. Only if it went on for more than a few days - then I'd sometimes hear her arguing with him to let me out."

"When I did get to eat, he would watch me sometimes. He was very particular about my manners and that I not wolf down my food or spill or anything like that. And, he didn't like it if I wasted food. If I didn't eat everything I was served, I wouldn't get anything to eat the next meal. Even when it was something I didn't like. Once he even made me eat scraps out of the trash as punishment for complaining about something I didn't like."

"Lots of times when I was being punished he'd make me sit at the table and watch while they ate. That was really hard - if my stomach growled or I said anything, it usually meant another meal added to my punishment. And, sometimes he'd even put food in front of me but I wasn’t allowed to touch it - those times it was often something really good, like a dessert - something I really wanted but I knew if I took it I would just get in even more trouble.”

“The worst times were when he’d put the food down in front of me and then change his mind and take it away. I never knew what to expect - sometimes he was actually nice, you know, buying food I really liked as a treat. But I didn’t ever know when he would change his mind and take it away. So, I learned not to start eating until I was sure he wouldn’t take the food away. That’s one of the reasons that I sometimes can’t choose what to eat - I get a little bit crazy and worry that whatever I choose, especially if it’s something I really want, it will be taken away.”

“That explains the cake I guess,” I offer.

“No. that wasn’t the problem with the cake, Brian. That was just me being a bit overwhelmed. It was the first night I was here and I didn’t really know you. I didn’t know if you were serious about giving me all this stuff and the food. It was so good. I hadn’t had that much real food in so long and then you gave me the cake and I just felt like it was too much. Too good to be true, you know?” Justin explains. “That didn’t have anything to do with my father. Well, not really. Except that I felt guilty about not eating it after you offered it to me because I knew not to turn down whatever I’m given.”

That happened to be when the door buzzed, announcing our dinner had arrived. I got up, paid for the food and Justin helped me bring it back over to where we’d been sitting on the couch. I watched as he made a concerted effort to choose his own food and fill his own bowl without waiting for my approval. I could tell it was hard for him but I was really glad he was trying. We shared a little insider smile after he sat down with his full bowl and started eating.

“What was it that he was punishing you for? How old were you - fourteen, fifteen? - what could you possibly be doing that was bad enough to lock you in your room without food?” I ask after we’ve both had a few mouthfuls of Pad Thai. 

“Anything, really. If I made a mess and didn’t clean it up before he saw it. If I talked back to him,” Justin is talking more freely now, opening up, but I still feel a little odd listening to him talk about these things without seeing more anger from him. “Before he pulled me out of school, I started getting into trouble a lot in class and he would punish me for that. Sometimes I didn’t know what he was punishing me for, but he would always come up with some excuse, even when I knew what he was telling me wasn’t the real reason. Like what happened with Daphne.”

“And there was other. . . stuff.”

This last part is added in a much different voice than Justin was using before. It’s quiet and I can hear the pain coming through finally. Whatever the ‘other stuff’ was that he was punished for was a lot more serious than what he’d been disclosing so far. I’m just about to ask about this other stuff, but Justin gets up abruptly and starts cleaning up the coffee table and the take out cartons and puttering about. He really isn’t ready to talk about the other stuff right now, I decide. Plus, after this morning and everything thing we’ve dealt with tonight, I figure it’s enough. So, I decide to let it slide for now.

When he finally finishes cleaning, and comes back to sit next to me, he’s calmer but still looks like he’ll bolt if I try to pursue the substance of our last conversation. But, I head off on a completely different and, hopefully easier, tack.

“So, what can I do to help you with the food issues, Sunshine? You don’t really want me to always decide for you what you’re going to eat? You’re amazingly open about eating what I’m choosing but it can’t always be what you want. So, tell me - what do we do about this?”

“I don’t mind you choosing,” Justin says with a big smile at me. “Really. So far it’s all been pretty good.”

“That’s not the point, Sunshine. I don’t like playing the adoring gentleman who picks his date’s meals for him. You need to choose for yourself. And, you need to feel comfortable telling me no when you don’t want something. Any ideas how we work that?” I ask.

He shrugs and shakes his head. Oddly enough, discussing how to get him to start making his own choices about food is more uncomfortable for him that talking about the abuse he suffered for years at his father’s hands. I marvel again at the crazy and horrible things parents do to their kids. 

“Okay. I have an idea - it’s something that Lindsey does with Gus, amazingly enough. I know it’s sort of silly, but maybe it will work. Lindsey has been trying to teach Gus not to be such a picky eater, especially when he’s out to dinner or eating at someone else’s house. Gus knows that he isn’t supposed to turn down foods he doesn’t want in those situations because it would be rude, but Lindsey also wants to give him a little out sometimes - sort of a reward for not being rude. So they set up this signal where Gus can tell his mom when he doesn’t like something he’s been offered. If he doesn’t act out and make a rude fuss, she lets him not eat whatever it is. The food just sits on his plate but he doesn’t have to eat it.”

“I know that’s sort of childish, but maybe we can adapt the idea? If you don’t think you’re up to ordering for yourself, for now, you can just tell me. Maybe just say, ‘what do you think’ or something like that. It can be our secret code. Then, I’ll order what I think you like. But, if you don’t like what I choose, you can just give me a signal, and I’ll know to pick something else.”

“What kind of signal?” Justin asks, his tentative smile lets me know he’s actually excited about this idea.

“Whatever you want. It should be something simple and something that won’t draw attention, though.” After thinking for a moment or two, I offer an idea,”how about if you just tap my arm? It’s simple and no one will notice it even if we’re out in public. How does that sound? Can you do that even though it’s a bit childish? That way we can work up to you making more and more of the decisions. What do you think.”

“I think you’re brilliant, Brian.” Justin says, beaming his full sunshine smile at me and then scooting over so he can wrap his arms around me for hug and a long, happy kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The therapy is going pretty well so far, don't you think. Well, once they got through the whole, 'don't play with your patient's dick while he's sleeping' fiasco. The idea for the signal for when Brian's choosing the food is actually something my parents used to do with me as a child - it worked pretty well. I learned never to be impolite by refusing food I was offered but I didn't have to eat it if I followed the rules and let my mom know. Worked like a charm! Hope it works as well for Justin. 
> 
> Lots of readers have focused on how horrible some of the things are that I've described Craig doing to Justin. I just want to reassure everyone that this is all just stuff I've made up in my sick mind. I hope to hell no one ever had to go through something like this, but, knowing human nature, it's actually pretty likely that someone somewhere has suffered something similar. I'm basing my story on research I've done from several sources including the US National Institutes of Health, the Vancouver (Canada) Coastal Health React Abuse Awareness site and several other websites. Unfortunately, controlling victims' access to food or other essential needs (water, medical care, shelter, clothing, etc.) is one of the primary means of psychological abuse. Also, punishing or embarrassing someone for uncontrollable bodily functions, such as in my story Justin getting a hard on when he wakes, is pretty common. So, while this is entirely fictional, it unfortunately isn't really all that far off from reality. Sorry.
> 
> And, for the record, I fully support all those readers who want to form a lynch mob and run out to find Craig Taylor and beat the s**t out of him.
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read and for all your wonderful, supportive comments.  
> TAG


	16. Amelioration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin is making a lot of progress and it's all thanks to Brian's patience. Not that domesticated, patient Brian is going to stay the norm, though. But for now, things are going pretty well for the boys. Hope you enjoy the relatively light angst. Oh, and I threw in a nice little shower scene too, just for fun! TAG

Chapter 16 - Amelioration.

Amelioration: Steady improvement towards becoming better or improved.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I love the idea Brian came up with about the food stuff. I don't care if it's basically the same thing his four year old is doing. I think it will work. And even if it doesn't, the fact that Brian is so willing to listen to what I say and then take my needs into account to find a workable solution is making me almost giddy. I can't wait to try this out. I might even actually tell him if I don't like something.

He didn't laugh at me or make fun of me when I told him what my father did. I didn't feel embarrassed. It was easy to talk to him. And he backed right off when he saw it was getting to be too much. Then he went that extra step and asked me how He could help me. He's fucking amazing.

Brian says we've done enough for one night and that maybe I should head to bed. He's going to shower and maybe do some work, he says. I am tired, although the head cold is pretty much gone now so I have more energy every day. But, I'm too excited to sleep right now. What I really want is to do something for Brian to show him how much all he's doing means to me.

My first thought is to follow him into the shower and show my appreciation in a very physical way. But, I can't ‘cause he made me promise to tone down the temptation thing. Then I remember the sketch I started yesterday - I'd remembered to bring the art stuff Brian had given me back from the office today and I could work on the sketch while Brian was doing his work. 

I'm wrapped in a blanket and curled up in a chair by the loft's huge plate glass windows when Brian comes out of the shower dressed in faded jeans and a warm pullover. He nods in my direction and proceeds straight to his desk, opening his computer and typing away. I'm finishing the sketch I started of him and Gus from breakfast yesterday. We're both quiet and content, each busy with our own pursuits.

That's when it strikes me how strange this scenario really is. I'm actually happy. I'm more than happy - I'm content and warm and happy and comfortable and relaxed and serene and satisfied and . . . All these other adjectives that have never been me ever before. My god, how did this happen?

This isn't me. I shouldn't be here and I shouldn't be feeling all these nice feelings. The more I realize how comfortable I've become, the more frightened I get. This is the very thing I was hoping to avoid. Getting comfortable somewhere, liking someone the way I like Brian. I've let this happen and now I'm completely fucked, aren't I?

When this all goes away it WILL kill me.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I'm thinking about how nice this is - Justin and I both sitting in the loft, each working on his own stuff, in a companionable silence. It's kind of 'homey'. Okay, it's also a bit weird because this is not the typical Brian Kinney M.O. Normally, the only time I've got another man here it's only for long enough to fuck him and he's out the door as quick as I can get him back into his clothes. Actually, that's not true - sometimes I even throw them out before they get back into all their clothes.

But this feels surprisingly nice. I could even get used to this. Okay, maybe not every night of the week - that would likely drive me insane, but it wouldn't be so bad on occasion.

I finish responding to the last of my emails and close up my computer. That's when I realize I haven't heard anything out of Justin for a long while. As I near the chair where he's sitting I note the slightly shell shocked expression on his face. This time I have at least some idea what might be bothering him though, and I'm not too worried.

"It's sort of too much, isn't it?" I ask as I take the forgotten sketch pad out of his fingers. "I was just thinking the same thing, Sunshine. All this domestic bliss and spending the night in together - it’s weird, isn't it? But, it's not that bad. You might even get used to it someday."

And when he finally blinks and looks into my eyes I know that I was right - we were both thinking about almost the same thing. It's hard not to be frightened of feeling happy, when you're so used to feeling bad all the time. I remember how it used to hit me just like it is with Justin, right after I'd moved in here and realized I'd finally escaped from my parents and their lifestyle. I understood how overwhelming it could be. This I could help him with.

"Don't think about it for now Sunshine. Let's just go to bed. I'm sure there's more bad stuff likely to happen tomorrow and you'll feel less scared by that than you do now. But, really, it'll be okay."

~~*~~

I wake up in the morning with blond twink sprawled face down all over me again. My hand had, of its own volition before I was even awake, found and grabbed hold of one lovely full butt cheek. I could really get to like this. That is, if I was only allowed to do something with the luscious blond twink.

Mindful of yesterday morning's events, I crank my neck so I can leave a kiss on the first piece of skin I can find - I think it's an ear but it's hard to tell from this angle. "Wake up, Sunshine. Don't want to scare you again but I don't really want to let go of your perky little ass cheek yet either. So, you better wake up and let me fondle you a little before we have to get to work."

"Mmmm." Justin's standard good morning mumble comes out, accompanied by the merest wiggle of his ass.

My hand can't help squeezing and kneading that perfectly firm flesh just a bit more. I hope he's awake enough this morning. Oh, what the hell, I reach my other hand around, let it grab it's own plump ass cheek, and use my leverage to pull him up and settle him more firmly on my chest and stomach. Now I have much better access to those tempting cheeks and I can fondle them much more fully. I also now have access to lips to kiss rather than just an ear. So I do.

"You do know that this hot little ass of yours should be illegal, don't you?" I ask when our mouths break apart enough to allow speech. "It's far too tempting. You make it very difficult for me to remember my promises, Sunshine."

"So, forget 'em already," he teases.

"You know, I've never done this before," I say a few kisses later.

"What? You've never played with a guy's ass before? And I thought you were so experienced," Justin is in such a teasing, playful mood today - I love it.

"No, you twat! I meant I've never NOT fucked a guy that was here in my loft - in my bed even," I explain. "Of course, I never had a reason like I do now, either. But, I'm just saying, it's a first for me. I'm actually impressed that I can show such restraint. I never thought I could do this."

"You can do anything, Brian," he whispers into my ear and solemnly seals the words inside with another kiss.

"Well, if I don't get away from you right this minute, that won't be true any more will it, because I'm not going to be able to stop myself from plowing into this plump perfect ass. So, it's off to ‘cold-shower-land’ for me, Sunshine." I say as I upend him abruptly and run to the shower before I break all my promises.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian doesn't close the bathroom door on his way into the shower. I hear the shower door click open and then closed and the water being turned on. I'm lying here still in a sleepy daze when I hear Brian say my name. I get up and move towards the bathroom but stop when I get a glimpse of the mirror over the washstand. From where I'm standing I have the perfect angle to watch Brian in the shower by way of his reflection in the mirror, and it's a fascinating sight.

Brian is standing directly under the shower head with the spray pelting down on his skin. His left arm is braced against the side glass panel. His head is bowed, his eyes closed. His right hand is clenched around his beautiful full dick and he's pumping himself furiously.

"Justin." he says my name again then moans quietly.

The thrill I get from hearing him say my name is accompanied by a hot little spark of warmth deep in my gut. The feeling surprises me but I don't get time to think about it too much because the scene I'm watching demands my full attention. Brian's hand is moving much faster now, sliding over his soapy skin easily. His look of concentration is so intense it almost makes me want to laugh. The little mumbles and whimpers he's making are mostly drowned out by the sound of the water.

Then the hitch in his breath warns me it's time. After two more pumps, I watch as all his muscles clench. Then streams of thick white cum stream out of his twitching cock, spraying spurt after spurt over the walls of the shower.

"Oh fuck, Sunshine," he groans as his body slumps back against the other side glass panel behind him and he milks out the last few drops of cum.

My body slumps back against the door frame at the same time. Brian jerking off in the shower is the hottest thing I've ever experienced in my life. On top of that, he was thinking about ME while he did it. Fuck, that was amazing!

I'm breathing heavy and my heart is racing just from watching. And then I notice it - I'm semi-aroused for the first time in practically forever. Okay, it's not a full-out stiffy, but for me it's pretty remarkable. I want to reach down and feel myself. It's just such a surprise that I don't even think about what I'm doing at first.

As soon as I do touch myself, though, it disappears. Shit. I shouldn't have . . . I'm not supposed to . . . Fuck. I feel the panic starting to rise up inside me. I want to fight it. I don't want to give into it again. Not this morning - not when I'm feeling so good. I close my eyes and concentrate on just breathing to hold off the fear.

"Hey, you," Brian's voice comes along with the feeling of his lips leaving a small peck on my forehead. "Shower's all yours, Sunshine. Hurry up, though. I thought we could stop by the Diner for breakfast and see how our new system works out."

That's all it takes. Brian says this to me and I'm instantly fine. All the panic just drains out of me. I know he'll make it okay. So, I breathe easily again and head into the shower to start getting ready.

~~*~~  
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

The Diner is ridiculously crowded this morning, so we just take seats together at the counter rather than waiting for a booth. Debbie is running around like a chicken with her head cut off - in other words, she’s completely happy and in her element. She’s grousing with the customers, alternately cursing at them and petting them the way she does. She stops her endless rounds long enough, though, to come barreling over to us when we enter to give Justin a huge bear hug. I almost stop her but one glance at Justin’s grin and I know he can handle this, so I shrug and let her have at him.

“Sunshine! You look so much better! Good job, Brian,” Debbie gushes as she clears off the counter in front of us and swipes at the counter with a rag. “You guys take a seat and I’ll be right back. Fuck. It’s busier in here today than the Liberty Baths on ‘No Towel Night’.”

“The one good thing about Deb,” I tell Justin as the red-headed spectacle retreats, “is that you almost never have to help out with the conversation. She just does all the talking and never really gives you a chance to answer anyway.”

Justin’s still laughing at my little joke when Deb returns with clean coffee cups and the carafe. “What’s so funny, huh? There’s no time for jokes anyway, boys. I’m too busy this morning. So, what are you having?” Deb takes her order pad out of the pocket of her apron and licks the tip of the pencil she pulls out of her wig. 

I look over at Justin to see if he’s ready. He’s smiling but he shakes his head ‘no’ at me. So, I start to order. 

“I’ll have my usual, Deb. And, you can bring Justin a short stack of pancakes,” I start off but I’m interrupted by a tap on my forearm and I look over at the grinning blond next to me who shakes his head a little.  
“No? Okay. . . how about . . . bacon, eggs, hash browns and wheat toast with orange juice and a bowl of fruit on the side.”  
Justin nods at me and his grin is so fucking huge that it feels like you could turn off all the lights in the restaurant and his smile alone would still light up the whole place. 

“You two are fucking adorable. You know that, right?” Debbie says, looking at me with sheer amazement on her face. 

“Thanks, Deb, but we’ll skip the commentary this morning and just go with breakfast instead, hmm?” I snark back at her since it’s what she expects and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. 

“I’m just saying. . . .” Deb says as she moves away to place our order.

“Way to go, Sunshine,” I murmur quietly to my companion. “I’m proud of you. How did that feel?”

“Good. Really good,” Justin responds quietly and I can’t resist, even though we’re here in the Diner and there are about fifty queers watching me - I lean over and give Justin a quick kiss on the cheek in celebration.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I DID IT! IT WORKED! I can’t believe I just told Brian no when he was ordering food for us and he didn’t get annoyed and he’s actually proud of me and I didn’t freak out or anything. This is amazing. I’m so excited that I’m not sure I can keep sitting here. I almost don’t want to wait for my food now - I feel like running and screaming and . . . whatever. But, I just sit here on the Diner stool next to Brian and wait patiently for my food and celebrate inside.

~~*~~  
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

“Sorry to interrupt, Brian, but you have an insistent visitor,” Cynthia’s voice rings over the intercom. “She refuses to make an appointment and come back another time.”

“Give me one clue and I bet I can guess who it is; How much do I normally want to avoid seeing this person?” I ask.

“I’d say you’d probably be happier meeting up with a gang of gay bashers armed to the teeth with pitchforks when you were alone, dressed in a tutu, right after a Pride parade.” Cynthia posits.

“Oh. It’s my mother. Fine. Send her in,” I say with resignation.

“Brian. I really do NOT like that receptionist of your’s. She is so rude. You should definitely say something to her,” are the first words out of St. Joan’s mouth as she barges into my office. 

“Mother. Lovely to see you, too,” I say as I submit to the obligatory peck on my cheek as she greets me. “Cynthia is just doing her job, mother. I told her an hour ago that I was busy and didn’t want any interruptions and she was just trying to follow my directions.”

“Well, I don’t care. She doesn’t need to be so rude about it,” Joan grouses.

“So, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your visit today,” I say, ignoring her complaints about my very capable and wonderful assistant, who, I remind myself, I should give a huge raise since she did such a good job pissing off my mother for me.

“Well, your nephew, Peter, is having his Confirmation this Sunday and I thought it wouldn’t kill you to come to church to support him. You hardly ever spend any time with the family. It’s not right that you have distanced yourself from all of us. The Bible tells us to honor our families, which includes spending time with them,” Joan complains.

“You know how much I just love spending time in church with my loving family, but, I’m sure Peter would rather just have me send him some money. What’s the going rate for a Confirmation these days? $100. $200?” I ask, already getting my checkbook out of the drawer of my desk. 

“Don’t be so flippant, Brian. Your soul is in need of some real attention, young man. When was the last time you were in a church? I’m just looking out for your best interests, you hear me?” Joan begins her usual religious rant, at which point I normally just tune her out.

“Here, Mom. Give this to dear little Peter and tell him I’m so very happy he’s being Confirmed into the Church of Hypocritical Old Men Who Like to Abuse Young Boys. I hope he turns out better than his juvenile delinquent brother did.” I say as I hand Joan the check I’ve just written.

“Brian! I will not listen to such sacrilege. You can say or do whatever you like, unfortunately, in your own life but you will not talk like that about the church in my presence. If it weren’t for the church and Reverend Tom, I don’t know what I would have done these last couple years since your father died. . . ."

I might have made the effort to shut her up eventually, but, unluckily, at this point Justin bursts through my office door, waving a mock-up board in his hand with a big smile on his face. He skips over to me, swings my chair around and plops himself down in my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck and planting a huge kiss on my lips to top it all off. 

“Look, Brian. The mock-ups are done. We just finished them and they turned out fantastic. I just couldn’t wait to show you,” Justin gushes, clearly proud of his first fully completed ad campaign boards - and who could blame him - it’s just that his timing really sucks.

“Brian! What is the meaning of this!” Joan’s affronted squeak from the visitor’s chair finally gets through to Justin’s overexcited mind, shutting him up fast.

“Mother, this is Justin. Justin, meet one of my own demons - my mother, Joan Kinney,” I belatedly make the introductions.

Joan fumes. Literally. I swear I can actually see steam coming out of her ears and her nostrils are flaring. And, amazingly enough, she’s actually speechless for the first time I can ever remember. For about two minutes, that is. 

Then, she gathers her purse to her bosom and stands up. “I had no idea you were . . . How dare you, Brian?”

“What? How dare I introduce you to my current squeeze? I thought you were just going on about how I shouldn’t distance myself from the family. Well, if I’m going to be spending all that time with you guys, you’ll probably want to meet my boyfriend, right? Can I bring a date to the Confirmation on Sunday? What do you say, Justin - would you like to waste your entire Sunday morning being ranted at by my zealot mother after we spend a useless hour in church with the rest of my screwed up family? Doesn’t that sound fun!”

“You know you’re going to Hell for this, Brian, don’t you? I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Joan is already retreating towards the door.

“I didn’t do anything to you, Joan. I’m doing it to Justin here! He doesn’t seem to mind though, do you Justin? And you know what,” I yell after her retreating back as she hustles out of my office door and past Cynthia’s desk, “I’d rather spend an eternity burning in hell than one ridiculous Sunday morning sitting in church with my so called ‘family’.”

As soon as she’s gone, I stomp back into my office and slam the door closed. I drop into my desk chair, still so angry and resentful that I can’t focus my thoughts. If I had something nearby that I didn’t care about ruining, I would throw it, but I can’t even focus enough to figure out what to throw. 

It’s at least ten minutes later before I start to wonder where Justin went to when all this blew up in our faces. It wasn’t his fault, really. The show down with my mother had been brewing for years. I had just been carefully avoiding her as much as possible ever since my father died. As much as I hated the brute that was my father, once I was old enough to stand up to him and he knew he couldn’t hit me anymore, he was actually easier to be around than my mother. Ever since he died, I’d known that I would eventually have to have it out with St. Joan, too. I just didn’t think that day would be today. But, now that it’s over, I actually feel relieved.

So, where DID Justin go? I don’t remember him leaving the office when I was tearing after my mother as she left. He must have gone though - he’s nowhere in sight right now. But the fact that I don’t know where he is makes me very nervous. That was a pretty big blow out for him to have to watch. It was fucking traumatic for me and I’m not the one barely able to hang on to reality half the time. This could be very, very bad.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"You know you're going to Hell for this, Brian, don't you . . . "

'I knew you were a fucking pervert. All these years I just knew it. But I had no idea how truly sick you really were. My God! What have I done to have such filth be foisted off on me. There's no way under the heavens that you could be my son.'

My father's face has turned an ugly greenish-purple and I can see the veins in his temples throbbing with every word he yells at me. I've never seen him this angry - which says a lot since I don't remember many days in my life that he was ever not angry for at least some part of it. But this is beyond anything I ever even dreamed of.

'I've done everything I could to raise you right. I've taken you to church every Sunday since the day you were born. I read the Bible to you even as an infant. You've been shown discipline and what prayer can do, and you still defy me and the Lord in this despicable, horrible way? How could you do this to me? To your poor Mother? How will we ever be able to show our faces in public again? My God, I wish you'd never been born rather than that you would shame us like this.'

He's still waving around the sketch book he found under the loose floorboard in my closet. I'd been hiding it there for years and I'd thought it was a safe place. Then today, when he found the jacket that had fallen off the hook behind my door, he decided to punish me for not taking care of my clothing properly by giving away all my clothes to charity. He said that since I didn't appreciate what I had, he'd give my clothes to someone who would. I'd appreciate the hard work he does to earn the money to buy those clothes after I've had to go naked for awhile.

He went into my closet and began pulling out all my clothes, throwing them into a pile in the center of my room. Then, by accident, he kicks the loose board causing it to rattle and it instantly draws his attention. It only takes him thirty seconds after that to pull up the loose board, discover the sketch pad in the crevice below and flip it open to reveal page after page of drawings of nude men.

The pile of clothing has been forgotten. My earlier transgression has been eclipsed by the much greater sin of finding men attractive. I'd tried for so long to keep this from him. I let him pull me out of school and drive Daphne away, all because I was too cowardly to tell him about this. He wouldn't have had the excuse he needed to do those things if he'd known about THIS. But I thought I could keep this hidden and be safe.

I was so wrong.

'Where's the rest of it?' he screams in my face. 'Is there any more? Any more filthy drawings or painting or pictures? Tell me, right now?'

'No. There's nothing else.' I answer.

'I want you to gather all this together and meet me in the driveway in five minutes. You better have every sketch pad, pencil, crayon, brush, whatever. If I find even one piece of scratch paper left up here afterwards you'll regret it. Do you hear me?'

'Yes.'

He's dumped out the old metal trash can and pulled it out to the middle of the driveway. There's some newspaper wadded up in the bottom and he's squirting lighter fluid onto it as I near. Then he looks at me with that evil tight lipped little smile he has and tosses a match into the can to light it all on fire. 

'Go on, boy. All of that filth goes into the fire. You know you're going to hell for this, don't you? Well this should give you a taste of what you will meet with if you don't repent, boy.'

'Go on!' he's saying to me, no longer yelling because we're outside and he wouldn't want the neighbors to hear, but with a controlled fury that's even more frightening.

When I don't move, he grabs my wrist and pulls me so close to the flames that I can feel the heat singeing the hairs on my arms and face. He hisses into my ear that if I don't burn it all he will and then I'll regret my actions even more. I don't doubt that at all. So I do as I'm told.

One by one my drawings go into the fire. My whole lifetime's work. Even the drawings and pictures that aren't of nudes - they all go. Then my pencils, brushes, paints, everything. I put it all in that can and watch it burn. When he laughs at the tears falling down my face and calls me a 'fairy boy' for crying, I think that's when the hole inside me explodes open. That's when he finally takes away the last pieces of me that I was trying to hold on to. That's when that boy disappeared.

And nobody even noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the crux of the matter, folks. Ack! I can't even think about what else to say without giving away plot. So. . . Bye! TAG


	17. Accommodation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out more as fluff than substance. Sorry. But, I needed to get some happy feelings in here for a bit to relieve the mood before the coming angst hits hard in the next few chapters. Enjoy. TAG

Chapter 17 - Accommodation.

Accommodation: The act of supplying something needed for convenience or to fulfill a need.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"Justin. Justin, please snap out of it. Fuck."

I've been calling his name and talking to him for ten minutes now and nothing's changed. It's like he's stuck in whatever memory he's trapped in. I feel like shit - why do I keep putting him in situations that trigger this reaction. I'm fucking hopeless at this therapy shit.

It took me almost twenty minutes to find him in the first place. I never even thought to try in the bathroom shower. How he got in here, not to mention why, I have no idea. I didn't even see him the first time I looked in here because the shower is this huge open unenclosed area surrounded by half walls. At first glance I didn't see him. It wasn't until I came through the second time and actually walked around the wall and looked into the shower that I saw him huddled in the corner out of sight. 

All together it's been more than forty minutes now. I'm starting to wonder at what point I call in help. What do you do in situations like this? He's not physically hurt, so calling an ambulance seems overkill. Not to mention how much he hates doctors. But he won't respond at all except to flinch or cry out when I try to touch him. I can't move him. He's fucking catatonic and I have no idea what to do.

"It's Brian," I yell into my phone when I finally decide I need help. "Ben, can you come to my office right away? It's Justin. I need help, please."

"I'm on my way," is all Ben says before he hangs up.

Have I said before that I really think Ben is a great guy? Michael has no idea how much he lucked out when Ben fell for him. Yeah, he can be annoyingly Zen - all calm and turn-the-other-cheek-like when you just really want to scream - but that's also why he's exactly the guy you want around when you just really want to scream. He's also incredibly loyal and always willing to help just about anyone. Which is why he's the one I just called.

I'm still sitting on the cold tile floor of the shower when Ben arrives. Cynthia shows him straight back. Justin's condition hasn't changed at all.

"What happened," Ben asks right off.

"My mother came for an unscheduled visit," I answer. "Justin wasnt aware that St. Joan didn't know her son was gay and he was a little too demonstrative while she was here. She of course came to the inevitable conclusion and immediately began spouting her religious crap about me going to hell, blah, blah, blah."

"Not that big a deal from my standpoint, in fact I'm kinda relieved it all came out, you know. But it shocked the shit out of Justin. He's been like this for almost an hour now, Ben. He just sits here. He won't let me touch him. What the fuck do I do?"

"Justin? Can you hear me?" Ben says as he squats down next to the unresponsive man. "She's gone. You're safe, Justin. Can you please wake up now,"

Ben waits about thirty seconds but when he gets no response he stands up, pulling me up along with him, and takes several steps away from Justin. Before I can even ask any questions, Ben adjusts the shower nozzle so it's pointing at the corner where Justin is sitting and flips the handle to turn on the water.

The water is probably freezing when it first comes out, but not even that gets a response out of Justin at first. After two or three minutes though, Justin starts to blink. Then he shakes his head to get the water out of his eyes and looks up at us utterly confused.

"Welcome back," Ben says and promptly shuts off the water.

"Fuck. I could've done THAT!" I complain to Ben as I grab a towel and hurry over to dry off my Sunshine.

Ben laughs his unassuming deep baritone laugh. "It's Occam's Razor, Brian - the simplest solution is generally the best."

"Here I was expecting some Zen Ben alternative therapy that involved incense and chanting. Instead all you give me is a cold shower?" I'm still complaining, but in a much more lighthearted mood since Justin's obviously coming around.

"Justin, can you tell me where you are right now?" Ben directs his question at the still blinking blond that I'm vigorously rubbing down.

"Bri. . . Brian's office?" Justin is able to respond.

"Good," is Ben's only comment. "I'll wait outside, Brian."

"Brian, why was I in the shower with my clothes on?" Justin asks as I start to strip off his wet clothes. "I don't feel feverish or sick like before when you did this. I'm confused."

"It's okay, Sunshine. You're not ill this time. You just had another bad episode and I couldn't get you to snap out of it. Ben decided to try the cold shower thing - which seems to have worked."

"Bad episode?"

"Yeah . . . I'll explain in a minute. Hmm, I don't have any clothes here that will fit you even close. Why don't you just wrap up in this blanket for now and we'll figure something out later," I suggest as I hand him the blanket we used just a couple days ago.

Ben's waiting on the couch for us. Justin's still not acting 100% so I guide him all the way to the couch and sit with him, my arms wrapped around him to keep in the warmth from the blanket. Justin's leaning against me heavily as if he's very tired. Fuck knows I am after all that.

"Justin, do you remember what happened to trigger this episode?" the professor asks as soon as we're settled.

"Not really. Umm. I was . . . I'd just finished up on the boards for the new account. I was excited to show Brian how good they turned out. I was going to bring them in here. I . . . I don't remember what happened after that." Justin says, his hand gripping my arm.

"Do you remember Brian's mother, Joan, was here?" Ben prompts.

Justin shakes his head but says nothing. His grip on my arm is becoming almost painful and he's chewing at his lip again so I know just how agitated this line of questions is making him. I see Ben start to pose another question but before he gets more than a few words out, I feel Justin tap my forearm twice. He's looking down so I can't see his face, but I instantly understand the gesture.

"Ben, I think Justin's a little overwhelmed right now. Right, Justin?" I feel him nodding at my words. "Maybe we can take a break from the questions for now."

"Sure," Ben readily agrees. "I didn't mean to push. I was just trying out something I read about. I did some research for you Brian after we spoke the other day. There are some really simple but effective PTSD therapy techniques I thought you two might be interested in - I've got printouts in my car for you or I can just forward you the web site info."

"PTSD? Like for soldiers and cops and shit?" I ask, not sure how this applies.

"Exactly. But it also often applies to victims of abuse - especially psychological abuse, which is what I'm assuming Justin is dealing with. See abuse victims have the same problem soldiers or other trauma victims have with not being able to look back on the events and memories that are causing them pain in a productive, healthy way. The therapies out there to treat PTSD help abuse victims to learn how to approach the painful memories and process the emotions they stir up in a positive way."

"The kind of therapy I was trying to explain to you the other day is called 'Prolonged Exposure Therapy' - that's where you repeatedly go over the event or memory causing the problems. The more often you go through that memory, each time prepared with a more positive response, the less impact it will have on you. Obviously there's more to it than that, but that's the jist of it."

"Or, if you've got your mind set on the Zen chanting thing, Brian, you could try 'Mindfulness Based Therapy'. That approach is sort of the opposite of the Prolonged Exposure theory. Instead of focusing on the past memories, the patient tries to only focus on the present moment and on good things and feelings. Each time the bad memory is triggered, you try to maintain the focus on the present and if your mind does wander back, you learn to redirect your thoughts and emotions. It's more like meditation, I guess, which is why I like it." Ben continues.

"Anyway, I'm sure you'll find something in the pile of info I found that will work for you two," the professor finishes with his well-meaning lecture.

"Thanks, Ben. And thanks for coming over here to help me," I say. "I think maybe Justin's ready to head home for today. We'll look over that stuff tomorrow."

I'm getting up to walk out with Ben when I feel another tap on my arm and I look down at Justin questioningly. I'm not sure which part of what I just said he disagrees with, though.

"Hang on a sec, Ben. What is it, Justin? Do you want Ben to stay?"

He shakes his head.

"Do you want to go over the therapy information now?"

Another shake.

What else was there? I kneel down in front of him, my hands braced on his thighs. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to tell me what you want Justin. I can't figure out what it is you're trying to say."

Watching his face, I'm amazed at how difficult it is for him to tell me what it is that I said that he doesn't agree with.

"Can we stay?" he finally manages to ask, his voice so low that if I weren't kneeling right in front of him, I wouldn't have heard him. "I want . . . I want to revise the boards and . . . and finish the art for the print ads."

That makes me smile, in spite of all the drama. Justin's excited about his project. Maybe the art is the thing that will pull him through this?

"Okay, Sunshine. We'll stay, but don't wear yourself out. Now we just have to find you some clothes. Wait here and I'll see what I can do."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I wasn't being completely honest with Ben. It's true I didn't remember anything about what happened in Brian's office earlier. But that memory I'd been stuck in, I remembered that. I remembered, now, what my father had done to me all those years ago. But I wasn't going to talk about it. Not right now with Ben there. Not even if it had only been Brian. That memory hurt too bad and I wasn't going to let it out at all if I could help it. What I'd really like is to cram it back down where it had been hiding so I don't have to remember it at all.

Brian comes back with some sweats and a tee he's borrowed from someone and I gladly put them on. The sooner I get back to what I was doing earlier, the less I have to think about that memory. My fucking father always did have to ruin everything good in my life - I had been so excited and happy about how the boards had turned out and all I wanted to do was show them to Brian and get his revisions so I could finalize them. But now everything feels tainted by that memory. I hope once I get back to work I'll forget again and go back to being happy.

But that isn't going to happen. The whole rest of the day is wrong. I can't concentrate and I keep making mistakes. I hate making mistakes on the boards. It's frustrating. I've had to redo one part three times now and it's still not the way I want it. It's all going to shit and it's all his fault. 

I guess I don't realize how late it's getting until Brian comes down to get me. Most of the others from the art department have left for the day already. The room is pretty empty and mostly dark except in my far corner at the unused desk I've taken over. That's probably why I don't notice Brian when he comes in.

When I fuck up the same part of the drawing for the fourth time I throw the whole board on the floor in disgust. I'm so angry that my hands are shaking - which likely explains why I keep fucking up. But, it's not right. It has to be right for Brian and I'm going to make it right, damn it.

"I thought I told you not to wear yourself out, Sunshine," Brian says, making me jump a little since I had no idea he's standing behind me.

"I'm fine. I just can't get this done the right way."

"You're tired. You need to take a break. I'm sure you'll get it the way you want it tomorrow, after you're had a chance to rest, sunshine," Brian soothes me by laying his steadying hands on my shoulders. "Come on. You've got to be starving - I can see from the unopened bag over there that you didn't even touch the lunch I ordered you. Let's go get some dinner and head home."

"But I wanted to finish this."

"It'll keep till tomorrow," Brian insists, taking the pencil out of my hand and putting it in the caddy on the edge of the desk before pulling me to his chest for a hug. "Getting you fed is my top priority right now. Then we need to get back to the loft because you look angry and tired and the only cure I know for that is to kiss you till you're fucking breathless and then take you to bed. So let's go - I've got things to do, Sunshine."

I like when Brian teases me like this. I much prefer him playful rather than all serious and worried about me. So I give in and follow him out to his car, content to let him take care of me for a while - I can tell how happy it makes him even when he tries to hide it. He's sweet like that, you know?

We go to a quaint little Italian restaurant for dinner. It's the cutest little place, complete with red checkered table cloths and melting candles in old straw covered Chianti bottles. We help the owner out with future decor provisions by drinking another future candle holder full of Chianti with my Pasta Bolognesi and Brian's Eggplant Parmesan. I even ordered my own dessert tonight, thanks to the fortifying effects of the chianti, I suspect.

I'm really enjoying it all too, until I make the mistake of telling Brian that I think it's romantic, which causes him to shut right up and start acting all serious and cold. He proceeds to tell me that's ridiculous and that he only eats here because it's the best Italian food in the Pitts. Silly man - I've never met anyone as romantic as Brian Kinney. We both know it, no matter what he says. But, he lets me hide stuff from the outside world, so I'll let him hide this if he thinks he needs to.

When we return to the loft, I do something even more bold - again, I blame it on the chianti - I ask Brian if we can take the night off from the talking thing. It's already been a long day with a lot of 'firsts' and lots of emotional ups and downs. I don't think I'm up for any more. Brian lets us have the night off, probably just as glad as I am.

Instead, Brian puts an old Marlon Brando movie into the DVD player and we cuddle together on the couch under a blanket watching the movie. I remember not to comment on the cuddling or how romantic the movie is, and just enjoy the time together with Brian. He recites almost the entire movie, line by line, as we watch.

I have another of those almost freak-out moments while we're sitting here like this. It's been less than a week since I was sleeping on the streets at night and eating out of dumpsters - it feels surreal to be here now in this beautiful loft apartment with this beautiful man, happily curled up in his arms watching a movie together like a 'couple'. This cant be me. Certainly I'm not allowed to feel this content or safe or cared for. Brian must have some sixth sense though when it comes to me getting worried, because he leans into me right at that moment and whispers into my ear.

"Shhh, Sunshine. It's okay," is all he says, but it's all that's needed and I stop myself from taking that thought track.

No, Brian Kinney isn't romantic at all.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Justin was really on edge tonight so I'm glad we take the night off and don't try any more 'therapy'. Instead we watch Viva Zapata!. It's one of my favorite movies of all time and I've got pretty much every line of dialog memorized. Usually it drives everyone crazy to watch it with me because I like to recite my favorite lines as I watch. Justin doesn't seem to mind though.

 

The only downside to our cozy little evening in is that I'm not distracted by anything enough to keep from noticing that my dick hasn't been inside anyone in days. It's definitely trying to tell me how neglected it feels. Having a warm, soft blond twink in my lap for hours on end doesn't help at all. Fuck me and all my stupid promises about not touching him for at least a week. What the fuck was I thinking?

I'm sitting here getting more and more uncomfortable when I just can't bear it anymore and I slip my left hand, which is already around Justin's waist, under the hem of his shirt and revel In the feel of the smooth toasty warm skin I find there. What is with this lesbionic need I seem to have developed to touch him all the time? I always seem to have my arms around him and I crave the feel of his skin. It must be testosterone poisoning from going for so long without a decent fuck. All I know is that creamy, smooth ivory skin just begs to be touched and licked and bitten and . . . And this line of thinking is not helping at all with my very large problem.

Thankfully, the twink saves the day. Strong, slender fingers reach for the zipper on my jeans and, the next thing I know, my heavy dick is out of my pants and lying twitching in Justin's palm. Somehow he's found the emergency tube of lube that I keep hidden in the cushions on the couch and he's squeezed out a handful before I'm really even aware of what's going to happen here. Then, without any discussion, Justin commences with a gloriously welcome hand job.

"Justin," I start to protest, albeit rather weakly.

"Shhh. Watch your movie," he orders and I happily obey.

His grip is remarkably strong considering how slender his long fingers look. He's not at all unsure of what he's doing though. He wraps those long fingers around my shaft and starts pumping me with a slow steady rhythm. His thumb draws little circles around on the head, flicking at the sensitive slit every so often, causing me to start a bit each time.

I'm finding it increasingly difficult to keep watching the movie, especially after he starts to increase his pace at the same time he begins leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses and nibbles down the side of my neck. He starts to vary the tightness of his grip, squeezing even tighter every third or fourth thrust which make me moan aloud. Then, he uses his other hand to reach around and lightly squeeze my balls in rhythm with his pumping and I'm hopelessly lost, cuming so quickly I'm almost ashamed. His hand is dripping with my cum and I have to moan again when Justin brings it to my mouth, letting me lick some of myself off his fingers, while he does the same. Our tongues meet as we do, which allows us to end this with a long, wet sticky kiss, my cum smeared over both our faces.

"Thank you, Sunshine," I say quietly as he finishes zipping me back into my pants. "You have no idea hw much I needed that."

Justin doesn't say anything. He just squirms himself closer so that my arm falls naturally into place around his shoulders, pulling him tighter into my side where he belongs. I think I hear him sigh.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm getting better at handling the Diner. The first couple of times we came here the noise and confusion really cowed me. But, I'm starting to feel more comfortable. Even Debbie with her loud voice, pinching fingers and crushing bear hugs is becoming more familiar and not so frightening. We're sitting with Ted and Emmett this morning and even their constant sniping at each other and snarky comments about everyone around us, doesn't throw me.

When Deb comes for our order, Brian begins to order me bacon and eggs again. When he gets to the side of fruit, though, I tap his arm and nervously interrupt. He smiles encouragingly at me, waiting to see what I'll do.

"Oatmeal, please," I add, as loudly as I can seeing as I feel like I'm about to faint.

"You like oatmeal?" Brian asks, and when I nod, he shakes his head and laughs. "Well then, I guess he wants oatmeal, Deb."

"Coming right up, Sunshine," Debbie gushes and bustles away, as Brian plants a gentle kiss on my cheek to reassure me.

"Excuse me, Teddy, but have you seen Brian Kinney around here anywhere this morning," Emmett asks as soon as Deb is gone. "I thought he was going to be joining us for breakfast today, but this man sitting across from us is clearly an imposter. He's not nearly callous and heartless enough to be Brian Kinney."

"I don't remember ordering any sarcasm with my breakfast this morning, Honeycutt," Brian answers, tongue in cheek. "You're welcome to keep your comments to yourself, you know."

"Sorry, Boss," Ted adds. "I have to agree. I'm worried about you. You haven't yelled at anybody at the office all week and you haven't even fired me in days."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Theodore, I'll fire you as soon as we get to the office this morning. Dont forget to remind me," Brian teases back.

I'm just a little bit annoyed at Emmett and Ted for giving Brian such a hard time about being his normal nice self to me, but he doesn't seem to mind, so I let is go for now. Meanwhile, they're all laughing and joking with each other so easily. I'm envious. I've never had a relationship like these men have. I might even feel a bit left out, but Brian is always there, smiling at me, holding my hand or squeezing my thigh under the edge of the table so I know I'm included.

I’m almost getting used to being included in Brian’s life. 

Why do I suddenly feel so scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when we get sightings of the rare and elusive Domesticated Brian Kinney. He's such a difficult species to track. And the sightings are so very infrequent. He's beautiful though, isn't he. I wish I could take him home and make a pet of him. However, he's a wild beast and wouldn't take to full-time domesticity easily. Oh well. I'll just have to enjoy this brief glimpse for now. Unfortunately, I think we're due to see him revert to his more feral state, very, very soon. Eek! TAG


	18. Betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter for you here. Brian is reacting, as expected, to all the domesticity from the past few days with Justin. The incident brings up a lot of insecurities in our poor Justin. So, the boys are finally going to have to start dealing with the tougher questions now. Lots of issues to deal with. Can Brian handle it all? We'll see. Read on! TAG

Chapter 18 - Betrayal.

Betrayal: The breaking or violation of a presumptive contract, trust, or confidence that produces moral and psychological conflict.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Assholes. Why do they seem so amazed that I do actually have a heart and occasionally want to help someone. Emmett and Ted just keep rubbing it in and giving me shit. What's the big deal - so I ordered breakfast for Justin. They don't know how tough it is for him, and I'm not going to tell them because it's none of their business, but I wish they'd back the fuck off me. But, no, they keep on for like a half hour about how Brian Kinney's been tamed and shit like that. It doesn't end till Justin and I leave.

I laugh it off like always, but it really rankles. All morning I keep thinking about it. Were they serious about some of the shit they said? I haven't 'lost my edge' - that's bullshit. I'm still the Stud of Liberty Avenue. I haven't gone out clubbing in five days and they're already predicting my demise. Well, fuck them.

Maybe I just need a break from twink sitting. It's been days since I've had any real time to myself, let alone any action. I know Justin still needs my help, but I feel like I'm going to completely lose it if I don't get some 'me' time. So, lunchtime comes and I tell Cynthia to order lunch for all the employees - that way I know he'll get fed and it doesn't seem like I'm just codling him. I ask both Cynthia and Ted to keep an eye on the twink and I head out to do lunch in my own way - at the baths.

I come back to the office an hour and a half later feeling much more relaxed - I finally got my dick in someone, well actually several someones, after days of hand-job-only neglect and it felt fabulous. Plus, after that performance, I'd like to see Ted or Emmett, or anyone else for that matter, tell me I've lost my edge.

But I do feel a little anxious about leaving Justin on his own for so long. Okay, I know it's ridiculous - he's been living in the streets for years, taking care of himself just fine, so what could happen to him in the hour and a half I've been gone? Cynthia isn't at her desk when I come in so I decide to head straight to the art department to check on my blond myself. Only, Justin isn't there. Toby, the guy who has the desk right next to where Justin's been sitting, tells me he left about forty minutes ago but he doesn't know where he went.

"What the fuck, Ted? I'm gone for little more than an hour and you've lost him again," I'm yelling as I enter Ted's office.

"Sorry, Bri, but what the hell are you talking about?" Ted responds.

"Justin. He's gone. I told you to keep an eye on him, didn't I?"

"I did. He came and had lunch with everyone else in the conference room and then he went back down to the art department with Toby and Jessica," Ted explains. "Fuck, Brian, he's a grown man, you didn't expect me to sit with him and hold his hand the whole time you were gone, did you?"

"I expected him to still be here when I got back from lunch, is what I expected. He's not . . . He's not well yet. He gets . . . Fuck. I've got to find him. Call me if he shows up back here." I start to head out of Ted's office but stop and yell back over my shoulder, "And, Ted, get him a phone with that GPS tracker shit so that once I find him you can't lose him again."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Cynthia tells me that Brian has an appointment and I'm supposed to come join the other employees for lunch up in the conference room. I grin at the idea that I'm included in as one of the 'employees'. I've never actually had a job - outside of street hustler, that is - so it feels nice to be included in with these other people.

Okay, I admit I'm not big on conversation, yet, but I do enjoy sitting and listening to the others talk. They're mostly talking about work stuff or personal family stuff. I can't really relate to a lot of it, but it feels friendly so I listen and nod or smile where it seems appropriate.

Toby, the guy who has the desk next to where I sit, has been kinda of a shit to me all week. He's made a couple of jokes about me just walking in and taking over the Daddies' campaign, implying that it's because I'm fucking Brian. If he only knew. But, so far I've been ignoring him. He's just a garden variety asshole - nothing special - and at least he's not a homophobe.

At lunch today, though, Toby seems to be on a roll. I didn't think everyone here at Kinnetik knew about me - that I come from the streets or that I'm a hustler part-time - but Toby's either been told something or found out on his own because his jokes are starting to hit closer to home. He makes a nasty joke about a rent boy and winks at me while he barks out the punch line. The jerk. Then he comes over and sits next to me and asks how I like Brian's loft - he tells me he's heard it's the premiere fuck pad in all of Pittsburgh. I'm trying to ignore him, but this time he just seems to want to press.

After he still doesn't get a rise out of me with two or three more tries, Toby moves to a new tactic. He waves Derek, one of the ad execs, over to 'join' us. Then Toby strikes up a conversation about seeing Derek at some club the night before. They eventually get the topic around to Brian and detail some of his 'exploits' at this particular club. Derek, who's actually not a bad guy, shoots a couple of glances my way while they're talking, like maybe he's a little unsure how much he should be saying, but Toby eggs him on.

Toby then manipulates the discussion around to Brian's appointment this afternoon. And somehow Toby just happens to let it slip that Brian's appointment involves the orgy room at the bath house. He's giggling at the innuendos he's making like a schoolgirl - it's really inane. But, it does get to me, even though I'll never let him know that.

I follow the rest of them back downstairs after lunch is over but I don't stay. I grab my coat and head out. I don't want to sit next to that creep for the rest of the afternoon and I really need out of here to clear my head. Fuck 'work'! Brian can get some other flunky to draw for him, I figure.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I find him at the same park where he was the last time he ran off. As soon as I see that shock of bright blond hair I start to breath again. My relief is mixed with a little anger though - I'm getting a little tired of having to traipse around after Justin every time he gets some stupid idea in that little blond head of his. What the hell was wrong this time, I wonder.

"Justin? Why did you run off again," I demand as soon as I'm near enough to speak to him, although I'm sorry the minute the words come out of my mouth because of the harsh tone I said them in.

I get a disdainful look back from him but nothing more. I sit next to him on the bench, trying to rein back my temper. It isn't easy.

"I thought we had an agreement that you would stay for one week, Justin. Aren't you going to honor your promise?" I can't help asking.

"You said I could go wherever I wanted during the days," is the emotionless response I get.

"You could at least tell me where you're going. I had no idea if you were hurt or not or where you were."

"What are you now, my warden? Do I have to get your permission before I go anywhere? I don't remember agreeing to let you keep me under constant surveillance. I don't like being kept inside places, Brian, and if that's your plan, count me out."

The anger in his voice throws me. Justin has always been this shy, hurt thing that doesn't speak out or talk back. This man is a different animal altogether. He's angry. No, not angry - he's incensed, irate, furious. This wasn't a Justin that I could comfort or protect. I didn't know how to respond to this Justin at all. And I has no idea what had brought this Justin out of his hiding place.

"Justin, what the fuck is the matter? Why are you acting like this? Did I do something to you?"

He laughs. Loudly. But it's an ugly laugh full of hatred and anger and pain.

"No, Brian. You didn't do anything to me. I did it all to myself."

"Sunshine, please, whatever's wrong, just tell me," I say, trying to placate this new scarier Justin by talking softly and putting my arm around his shoulders.

"Get your hands off me," he practically screams and bolts away from where we were sitting. "You stink, Brian. You smell like another man's cum. Don't you dare touch me."

"Justin? What . . . What are you saying?" I'm completely taken off guard by the venom in his tone and his actions.

"At least I come by the stench honestly. I admit I'm a whore. I do what I have to in order to live. I don't have a choice. I've been driven to this by my loving father. But you . . . You, Brian. . . I guess you're just a whore by nature. My father was right, I guess - all fags are really just cock whores aren't we? We just can't keep our dicks out of whatever convenient hole that happens by."

"God, he'd be so proud of me if he could see me now - I've just proved every vile thing he ever said about me to be true. I mean he was sure I'd turn out to be no good trash. I'm exactly what he said I'd be. A fucking whore. That's what I am. Only I used to just whore for money or food. Now I whore for much more important stuff right? Acceptance, comfort, happiness? I'll do anything just to let you keep me like your little lap dog - that's what you think, isn't it? ISN'T IT?"

"Well, not any more! You can keep your happy homo home, Mr. Kinney, and all the lies that go along with it. They're really no different than the lies that went along with my father's ideas of a happy family. I didn't buy into his lies either. I'm done being your little pet psychology project. Your boy toy that you took off the streets that you get to brag about to all your friends. 'Oh, Brian's so nice to take in the poor street kid'. 'You're so wonderful to take care of him, Brian.' Well lah de dah! I'm not a fucking charity. I don't need your shit and I don't need YOU."

"Just leave me alone. I'm not buying what you're selling any more," he says, then turns his back on me, standing about ten feet down the path with his legs braced and his arms crossed, his chest heaving with pure rage.

What the FUCK!

There were so many different issues in what he'd just screamed at me - so much information - that I was having trouble grasping it all. I had no idea where to start. I didn't see how I was going to get through all that rage to find out the core of what was really bothering him. But fuck if I was going to give up on him. Not yet - maybe not ever.

"No," was all I managed to say, but I really meant it.

"What? What do you mean 'No'? I told you to leave me alone. You don't get to just say 'No'." Justin says, turning back to face me, still angry but now also the tiniest bit curious.

"I said, No. I'm not going to leave you alone. I promised you I'd be here for you, no matter what, so I'm not going to leave you alone. Plus, you promised me a week and I'm not going to let you out of your promise. You can scream at me if you want, but I'm still not going anywhere."

"What part of fuck off don't you get, Brian?"

"The part where you promised me you'd stay for a week and let me try to help you. I told you I'd probably fuck it up completely, but you promised to stay regardless. So I'm going to hold you to your promise."

"What if I don't want to stay any more? What are you going to do? Are you going to lock me up in your loft?"

"No. Of course not. I'll just keep following you around for the rest of the week annoying the crap out of you until you agree to talk to me."

I say this in all seriousness, actually. I meant it - I really would just keep after him until he broke down. But the way it came out sounded pretty silly. It takes us only a minute or two until we're both smiling at each other over my stupid tenacity.

"Fuck, Brian," Justin says as he finally returns and sits on the far end of the bench.

"That doesn't happen till the end of the week, Sunshine."

"Yeah, right. At least for me," he mutters.

"I take it this has something to do with my not fucking you?" I ask, tentatively.

"No. Not exactly. But it does have to do with the fact that you're letting all your friends and employees think we're fucking when we're not. And they're all convinced that the only reason you're doing anything for me or that I'm getting to work at Kinnetik is because you can't live without my tight, hot ass. Meanwhile, you get all the ass you need at the Diner or the baths."

"It's one thing when I sell my body for money, you know," he says in a small hopeless voice, the rage now gone. "At least then it's honest - the client gets a service he wants and I get what I need: money. But with you it's all just fucked up. You don't want my body. You have half the men in Pittsburgh practically throwing their asses at your dick. You want something else from me - something. . . I'm not sure what. And, instead of just paying me you try to sell me on all these happy feelings, making me think I'm being included in your life but it's all a fucking lie."

"Then you say you want me to trust you, to talk to you and that you'll help me out of the goodness of your great big heart. But from what I hear, there's serious doubt that that organ even exists. Even if it did, how the fuck do I trust you when I watch you lying to everyone around us every day? I already expected you to lie to me but you can't simply demand that I trust you then, can you?"

"I wish you'd just fuck me and get it over with. At least then all the shit everyone's saying about me and thinking about me would be true. But no, I guess I'm just not good enough for the great Brian Kinney."

"That's not true, Justin. What you're saying is wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to start," I begin to explain, but he interrupts me.

"Whatever, Brian. Either fuck me and then let's move on, or start being honest with everyone and start telling them you're not fucking me. I'm not good with lies."

After that, Justin falls quiet, just sitting there looking into his empty hands as if he expects to find some answers there. I'm quite literally speechless. Where do I even start after that tirade? I'm sure that there's more to what he's said than is easy to determine on the surface. But even the issues he's brought up that are clearly visible are so complicated that I have no idea where to begin.

Something Ben said surfaces in my mind - he said that abuse victims have trouble forming stable relationships because of trust issues. So, underneath everything Justin just said - under all the misconceptions, half-truths and hurt feelings, the bottom line is really just trust, right? He doesn't trust me. I've done something or some things that he sees as disloyal or dishonest and it's bringing up all these other issues he's been worrying about. So, I have to be honest with him, earn back his trust and then, maybe, we can work out the other stuff.

Okay, let's start with the easiest issue, then. Either I fuck him or I come clean and tell everyone I'm NOT fucking him. Normally I'd pick the first option without delay, but, especially after this latest fiasco, I'm even more convinced that neither of us are ready for that right now. So, the second option will have to do.

"Justin, the only reason I haven't straightened everyone out about what they suspect we're doing is that I didn't think it was any of their business. I wasn't trying to imply by my silence that we were fucking. And I wasn’t trying to use your presence in my loft or my life to prove my manhood or any crap like that. I had no idea that was how you were interpreting it. But, if it will make you feel better, I'll tell anyone who asks or comments the truth, that we’re not fucking. Will that help?"

He just shrugs. He's sitting at the far end of the bench looking all small again now that his anger has dissipated. I scoot towards him and again try to put my arm around his shoulders, but he still flinches away.

"Fine. You're still angry. But can we at least take this discussion back to the loft or at least the office? It's fuckng cold out here, Sunshine."

He shakes his head 'no' and shrinks even further away from me, seemingly getting smaller still.

"Why not?" I ask, truly perplexed at this new turn .

"You're still angry," is all the explanation I get.

"So what? You're still angry, too. We need to work this out, I just don't want to have to do it out here in the cold with strangers walking by and looking at us as if we're nuts. Let's go home and you can yell at me more there, Justin."

"I don't want to go there with you while you're angry."

"Why?"

"You'll . . . What if I don't want to stay? What'll you do?"

"Do you think I'll hit you? Justin, I would never do anything like that. I swear."

"It's not that. I just don't want to go inside your house. You'll . . . If you don't want me to leave then . . . "

"Fuck, Justin. I won't keep you there if you truly don't want to stay," I finally say, thinking maybe I've hit on the real point of his fear. "In case you haven't noticed, my loft doesn't have any walls or doors - except the bathroom of course, but there's no lock on it either. And the front door only locks people out. You can't be locked in, Justin. All you can do is lock me out, but I really hope you won't."

I watch as he works through this information. The idea that no one could lock him in again, that he's safe, is overwhelming. He crumples into me, finally letting me hold him. But it's not for long. He scrunches up his nose at me and starts to pull away almost immediately.

"I know. I stink. Let's go home and I'll shower and then we can try to figure this out. Okay?"

Justin nods and lets me take his smaller hand in mine as we head towards home.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

While Brian takes his shower, I wander around in the loft. He's right there are no doors except the front door. I test that out - I use Brian's keys to lock it and find that even then I can always open the door from the inside. Even if the alarm was activated, I might set the alarm off but I could always get out. The front door also keeps out people you don't want in. You can keep someone out but never lock them in.

This is the safest place I've ever been. Physically, at least. I'm still not sure how safe I am here internally.

Brian kept talking about this loft as 'home'. 'Let's go home', he said. Like I'm part of the concept 'home'. That part I still don't trust. I've never had a home, just houses. I need to clarify that with Him.

He comes out of the bedroom dressed only in an unbuttoned pair of jeans. His hair is damp and rumpled. He's so beautiful. I want to . . . But, no, I quash those thoughts down right away before they can take root in my psyche. I'm not falling for that again - Brian doesn't want me that way so there's no reason to let any false hope build up. I'll just serve out the rest of my week and then leave.

"Just let me call Cynthia and let her know where I'll be, okay?" Brian tells me as he picks up his phone. "Everyone's probably freaking out since I just ran out of there without telling anyone where I was going."

"Cynthia, hey. . . Yeah, I found him. I'm going to work from home the rest of the day. . . You'll have to reschedule that for Monday, and give him my apologies. . . Of course the meeting with Daddies' is still on for tomorrow afternoon. Have someone bring over everything and I'll prep for the presentation and do any last minute revisions from here. We'll still have tomorrow morning to make last minute changes if we need to.  
Thanks, Cynthia."

Brian turns to me. "Okay, my afternoon is cleared, Sunshine. So let's talk."

He grabs two beers from the fridge and a bowl of grapes and brings them over to the coffee table. He sits and holds one bottle out to me. I don't want to do this. I don't want to have this conversation. I don't want to sit next to him and be tempted again. I don't want to let Him in again even a little. But I fucking promised and I know He won't let me out of that promise so I have to sit and I have to talk to him and I have to let him hurt me all over again. So I take the beer - I'm gonna need it.

"Where do you want to start, Sunshine?" he asks but I just shrug since it doesn't matter where we start if it's all going to end in the same pain.

"My choice, huh?" Brian says. "Well, let's start with what people have been saying to you. First of all, I want to know who it is that's been saying shit."

"It doesn't matter who," I start to say, but He interrupts immediately.

"Yes, it does. If it's a so-called friend talking shit about me, that's one thing. I'll straighten whoever it is out and that'll be that. But I've got a few enemies in this town, too - you don't get where I am without making some people jealous - and if it's one of them spreading rumors, then I need to know so I can do damage control," Brian explains. "So tell me who's been talking and what they've been saying."

"Mostly it's just been your friends. Ted and Emmett at breakfast this morning, Michael, those sorts of comments. They all think you're fucking me - that I'm just you're long term rent boy. Which would be okay if it were true, I guess . . . "

"And I already said I'd set them all straight. Who else?"

"People at your office."

"Who at my office," Brian says, his voice getting menacing all of a sudden.

"Toby, for one," I say, a little uneasy about what Brian's going to do. "He knows I'm a hustler and he's said some stuff, made some jokes. Maybe a couple others, too, but Toby's the worst."

"I didn't know you were going to tell everyone at your work about me, Brian," I add, getting a bit angrier as I say it. "It's not like I care really, it's just that . . . When I know people know about me I act different. I don't let them see me or get to know me, you know. I can keep them out if I'm just the street kid. But I thought that maybe they liked me or wanted to be friendly or something so I talked to people there. I let them see me. And then creeps like Toby say shit to me and I'm not prepared, you know. If I'd been ready for it - if I'd expected it - it wouldn't have got to me so bad. Why did you have to tell them all about me, Brian?"

"That little shit. Toby's just jealous because he doesn't have a tenth of your artistic talent, Justin. He's the artist who did the original Daddies' boards and I took the account away from him when I decided to go with your idea instead. That's why he's saying shit. It's just to get back at you for taking his account."

"Yeah, but how does he know about me? You and Ted were the only ones who knew about me, Brian. But Toby was telling all these rent boy jokes at lunch today and winking at me and . . . Somebody told him about me."

"I didn't say anything to anyone about you, Justin. I swear. I wouldn't ever tell my employees about anything in my personal life. I've fired more than one for talking about me like that before and they all know it. It's not like I hide that I'm gay or what I do, but my employees know better than to spread any rumors they hear or talk about anything they see. I take loyalty issues very seriously, as Toby will soon find out."

"I don't know how he found out about you, Justin. But it wasn't from me and I seriously doubt it was from Ted. Ted might give me shit to my face but he's far too loyal and he likes his job way too much to be caught dead talking about me to anyone else. It has to be someone else. Don't worry, I'll figure it out, and in the meantime we'll fix this first thing tomorrow morning. Okay?"

"I suppose."

We sit in silence for a few minutes after that. I can tell Brian is trying to work ou what he's going to say next. Whatever it is, I can tell he's not happy about it.

"I guess we also need to talk about me going to the baths this afternoon?" Brian finally spits it out as if the very words taste bad to him. "You obviously know that's where I was over lunch and I take it that you've got some issues with that?"

"No. Not at all," I answer.

"Good. Because it's none of your business anyway," Brian says, brusquely. "So if you don't have a problem with it, then what was all that crap about me being a whore and asses being thrown at my dick and . . .

Brian is thankfully interrupted by the door buzzer. He gets up, goes to the door and lets in Ted, who's been delegated to bring the work Brian asked for. Brian talks to him quietly for several minutes out of my earshot, probably asking him about what we were talking over earlier. I'm not listening - I'm just glad for the break since I didn’t really like where the conversation was going earlier. I hope Brian is adequately distracted by his conversation with Ted that we don’t have to go back to the same conversation when he’s done.

Before he leaves, Ted comes over to where I’m still sitting on the couch waiting for Brian’s return. He looks even more sheepish than usual, which is saying a lot for the unassuming accountant. 

“Justin. Brian told me about what Toby was saying to you today. I’m sorry that you’re having to deal with that,” Ted explains. “I want you to know that I didn’t say anything to Toby or anyone else about you. Wherever he got his information it wasn’t from me. What you do and what’s in your past is your business and nobody else’s, at least as far as I’m concerned. I’ve got more than a few skeletons in my own closet and I wouldn’t want anyone talking about my past either, so I know what you must be going through and I’m really sorry. And, if anything Emmett or I said earlier made you uncomfortable, then I’m sorry for that too. We didn’t intend to be mean or cause problems, we were just joking around with Brian and we didn’t really think about what we were saying - or at least I didn’t. I’m truly sorry that you were upset by all that. Really. Can you please forgive me?”

“Sure,” I say, actually touched by the apology - I’ve never really had one before so it felt kind of nice.

“Please don’t let Toby and his type keep you from coming back to Kinnetik, either,” Ted adds. “Everyone really likes your work and I think if you give it time, you’ll really get to like most of the other employees there.”  
“Thanks,” is all I can say.

“Well, see you tomorrow, hopefully,” Ted waves goodbye and turns to leave, “Bye, Brian. Sorry, again.”

“Theodore,” Brian says, noncommittally as he sees Ted out.

When Brian comes back he’s got two items his his hands. He sits on the couch, closer to me than where he was sitting before he got up earlier and hands me a small box. It’s wrapped like a present and I’m not sure what to do with it so I just hold onto it until he give me directions.

“Open it, Justin,” Brian orders, so I do. 

Inside is a brand new, state-of-the-art smartphone. It’s one of those that does pretty much everything: it talks, tells time and the temperature, it can locate itself if it’s lost, not to mention all the other regular stuff like taking pictures, sending emails, connecting to the internet, oh, and, operating as a telephone, too. I look at it in utter confusion - I’ve never seen anything even remotely this cool and I have no idea what Brian wants me to do with it.

“It’s yours, Justin,” Brian says, answering the confusion in my countenance. “And before you get angry at me over the fact that it’s too much, just let me explain, okay. You’re right that I have absolutely no right to control where you go or what you do. You’re an adult. You should be free to come and go from here whenever you want. But, I can’t help it if I get worried when I don’t know where you are. So, this is a compromise. As long as you have this phone with you, I can find you if I need to and I don’t have to track you down all over the city.”

“Plus, if you need anything - help, or you get lost or whatever - you can always call me. My numbers are already pre-programed in for you. Just press and hold the big button on the bottom and say, ‘call Brian’ and you’ll be automatically connected to my cell phone,” Brian demonstrates. “You can reach me at any time, okay. I’ll always take your calls no matter what.”

“And here,” Brian gives me another little box, this one isn’t wrapped and it’s even smaller than the first one. “It’s keys to the loft. That way you can come and go when you want. I’ll show you the alarm codes later, okay. Just, please don’t leave for good without talking to me first.”

I open the smaller box and see a small key chain with a fob shaped like a little painter’s pallette. It’s even got a small brush lying across the palette. Attached to the chain are three differently shaped keys. It’s wonderful. 

“So, will you please stay, Justin?” Brian asks me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin apparently has some 'trust issues'. There are a lot of them and it will take more than just a chapter (or two, or maybe even three) to deal with them all. Good thing Brian is feeling very diligent about his sweet little blond. Don't worry though, Brian hasn't been at all distracted by Ted's visit and he'll get right back to the whole discussion about the 'whore' comments next chapter. Good stuff, guys. TAG


	19. Discourse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialog and lots of angst - take warning! Justin's still not through with his 'mad' and he's really taking it out on Brian. Brian is being remarkably open and understanting about it all too. What's with that? Anyway, the boys are getting into the nitty gritty of what is bothering Justin. Read to see what they discover. TAG

Chapter 19 - Discourse.

Discourse: The formal and orderly and usually extended expression of thought on a subject; To talk or converse.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Why does He do that. Why does he do all these nice little things right when I’m prepared to be angry with him or distrust him or run away. It’s not fair. How dare he give me these wonderful, caring presents when he so obviously doesn’t care for me that way. He’s so fucking aggravating and part of me wants to just throw the fucking phone and the keys in his face and run away screaming from this place. Unfortunately, the other part, the traitorous weak part, wants to kiss Him. The two parts are pretty equally matched, which means that I’m stuck here not able to do anything. Damn Him!

“Justin?” Brian says, softly, as he moves closer to me and puts his left arm around my waist. “Please say something so I know you’re okay.”

“Don’t touch me!” I yell and pull away from him, standing up in front of the couch so I can glare down at Him. “Just stop it, Brian. Why are you doing this? Why do you give me all these things - presents. I don’t understand you at all.”

“Justin, what’s wrong. I’m giving these things to you because I want you to be able to come and go as you want and at the same time I’ll know you’re okay. What’s so wrong with that? I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Brian answers back, his tone bordering on angry.

“What’s wrong is that I can’t do this, Brian. I can’t be whatever it is you think I should be. I don’t . . . don’t know how to be for you,” I end, lamely.

“I don’t expect you to be anything except what you are, Justin. What is it you think I want.”

“I don’t know. That’s why this is so hard. One minute I think you want me to be something and then the next minute you completely change. How the fuck am I supposed to read you?” I’m yelling and pacing now, so angry again that I can’t keep still.

"You obviously don’t want me physically. I thought that was what you wanted and I was perfectly willing to give you that. But you told me no, that you're not going to fuck me and that you just wanted to help me, yada, yada. Since then I've been trying all week to figure out what you do want and I'm stumped.

"You didn't seem to mind the hand job last night or the blow job the other day. And I caught your act in the shower the other day when you were saying my name while you jacked off. So I was starting to think that maybe you did want me, at least a little bit."

"But then you go get your rocks off at the baths today. Clearly you don't need me when you've got half of gay Pittsburgh throwing themselves at you. I mean if you'd rather use one of them to take care of your needs, instead of me who's actually living at your house and wanting . . . I mean willing to . . . To provide that service, then I'm left back at square one, not knowing what the fuck you want out of me."

"I don't WANT anything from you, Justin," Brian says, his anger almost equal to mine from the sound of his voice.

"That's bullshit and you know it, Brian," I yell back. "Everyone wants something. If its not sex, then what is it? Why are you doing this, hmm? WHY?"

"Fuck if I know why. Especially when you're acting like such a twat."

Brian's apparently finally had enough since he gets up, stalks to the kitchen and pours himself a large tumbler of Whiskey. He stands there leaning against the counter, his back to me and the rest of the loft, while he sips at his drink. All the anger that was sustaining me drains out again and I'm left exhausted and too weak feeling to stand so I just sink down onto the couch again, and wait.

When He finally comes back, he's much calmer. His drink is practically gone so I surmise it's been a while that he was standing over there but time is doing that slippery thing where it goes at different speeds depending on what you're feeling so I don't really know how long it's been. He sits in the chair on the far side of the coffee table from me. I guess He needs some space, too.

"That first night when I saw you in the hospital, when you weren't even awake yet, I knew there was something about you that I couldn't get away from," Brian says very hushed. "I didn't sleep that night at all, you know. The next day, when I caught you trying to escape - you could barely stand and you were only wearing that flimsy hospital gown with no shoes, no jacket, nothing - you were so hurt and small but so determined. You reminded me of me. I got scared when I looked in your eyes and saw all this pain. It reminded me of me when I was living at home, back before I met Michael and Deb. I thought I'd escaped from all that pain years ago, but looking at you, it felt like it all came back."

He gets up and refills his glass, then takes a long swallow before continuing. "I guess what I want from you, Justin, is to not be scared any more. To not feel that empty hollow feeling that seeing you brought back. I can't let you go until I know you are okay. If I can make this okay for you, then maybe I can be okay, too."

"So I am just your pet charity case," I almost cry at the realization.

"No, you're not, Justin," Brian slams his glass down onto the table between us. "You're a lot fucking more than just a charity case or my pet hustler or any of the other terms you keep using to put yourself down. But you asked me what my motivation for helping you was, so I told you. It's not sex or money, it's self preservation - pretty standard motivator."

"But whatever my original motivation was for helping doesn't define you. You're not just what I need from you. You're this remarkably strong, beautiful, young artist. You're incredibly smart. You're so fucking talented you've got half my art department falling over themselves with jealousy. And when you're not stomping around being a stubborn idiot, you're amazingly easy to be with - I like just being with you, watching a movie, working together, whatever - I've never done this with anyone else. I've never enjoyed just being with someone the way I do with you. It's fucking freaking me out, I admit, but I like it, too."

"Plus you're fucking wrong when you say I don't want you. I do. I want you so bad sometimes I'm sure that I'm never going to be able to keep my promise and stay away from you for the rest of the week. But, you're not ready for that, Justin. Fuck, you're standing here telling me that unless I fuck you, you don't know 'how to be'. Don't you see how wacked that is? I'm not gonna fuck you just so you feel useful."

"So, to get back to your original question - what do I want from you? I want you to stay. I want you to let me try to help you because by helping you I feel like I'm helping myself too. I want you to get better, to realize what a fucking remarkable person you truly are."

"And then, when you're ready, I do want to fuck you, but I won't do it until you can truthfully tell me that the reason you want me to fuck you is because you want it, because you want ME. And not for some fucked up reason like you feel you have to or because you don't know how to define yourself without it. Does that make any sense to you, Justin?"

"You didn't go to the baths because you didn't want to be with me?" I ask, just to clarify the one point that I'm still unsure about.

"Shit, no. Justin, I only went there today because . . Fuck! . . . I guess the real reason I went there was because of the shit Ted and Emmett were saying this morning at breakfast," Brian confesses. "You remember how they were giving me shit about being 'tamed'. Like there was something wrong with me taking care of you or some shit like that."

"See, I have this reputation - Brian 'Fucking' Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue - that's what Mikey calls me. And, well, when the guys started ribbing me about losing my edge and all, it got to me a little. It shouldn't have - its none of their fucking business who I fuck or don't - but, it did bother me a little. So, I guess I just thought I needed to prove them wrong. And, what better way to prove you're still the Stud, than with well orchestrated public sex, right?"

"And, by the way, I don't appreciate you calling me a whore. I don't care who approves or doesn't approve of my lifestyle, but I'm not a whore. Yes, I fuck around a lot, but I prefer the term 'promiscuous', thank you," Brian teases me a little, peeking out of the corner of his eye to see if I'm laughing or still angry at him.

I can't keep back a tiny, scared smile. I'm still spooked about whether or not he's going to get mad about being called a whore - he may be joking about it now, but that doesn't mean he won't get angry later. And I need to process everything else he just told me, too. There's a metric fuck ton of information he just gave me and it's gonna take a long time to go through it all. But I guess I can give him something - a kinda smile - to let him know I'm not running away yet.

"Let's get out of here," Brian says, rising to his feet abruptly. "I'm ready for a break, how about you? Why don't we go get some food and we can pick this back up later."

He holds his hand out to me and I take it. I'm definitely ready for a break. Why is every day I spend here with Brian so emotionally exhausting? I wonder what his life was like before I came along and if he's as worn out by this whole process as I am. Will it ever end? Will a week be enough?

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

All the things I just said . . . I can't believe I said half that shit. I REALLY need a break after all that. What I want is a fifth of Beam, a couple of bumps and a good fuck, but none of those things will help the situation with Justin, so I guess I'll settle for dinner and getting out of the loft.

It's really early - not even 6:30 yet - plus I had a really good work out instead of lunch earlier, so I decide I can risk the carbs and take Justin to this Asian Noodle House around the corner. I assume that after everything Justin will be feeling super insecure and I'll have to order for both of us, but I'm wrong. The server approaches him first and he just pipes right up and orders a chicken satay rice bowl. I guess he's still riding that wave of angry independence he's been on all afternoon. Way to go, Justin. Even if it does mean we've spent the last two hours arguing, I guess.

I'm only halfway through my grilled Maki when my cell starts to ring. I see it's Lindz so, of course I take it, stepping out of the restaurant to talk. It turns out the art show auction at the GLC was a huge success. Gus' class tile project brought in $500 for their class. And, it turns out that the Munchers were the winners in the silent auction of a spa weekend for two.

"I know it's an imposition, Brian, and it's last minute, but the package is for this weekend," Lindsey pleads over the phone line. "There's no time to get a sitter and Debbie's working both Friday and Saturday nights, so she can't do it. Do you think you could watch Gus for the weekend? Please."

"Sure, Lindz. No problem. But, I've got a huge presentation tomorrow afternoon, though so I wouldn't be able to come pick him up till after 6:00. Any chance you could drop him off at Kinnetik for me? I'll have Ted play Auntie till I'm done with my client."

"You're wonderful, Brian. Thank you, thank you, thank you," Lindsey gushes. "I'll drop him off around 4:00, if that's okay. We can pick him up from you at Debbie's on Sunday. You and Justin are coming to family dinner, aren't you?"

"I don't know if Justin's ready for a full family dinner, Lindz. Fuck, the idea gives me nightmares sometimes. Hasn't the kid been traumatized enough?" I'm only half joking - family dinners can be brutal, and Justin may not be ready yet. "Why don't we play it by ear, Lindz. Just call on your way home Sunday and we'll work it out somehow."

"Okay. Thanks again, Bri. I know you've already got your hands full helping Justin but this is really going to be a nice getaway for Mel and I. So, thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, Mom. Later."

When I get back to the table I notice that Justin, polite little boy with food issues that he is hasn't touched a bite of his food since I left. He's probably just been sitting there, staring at it and letting it get cold the whole time I was gone. If he wasn't so adorable, he'd be outright annoying. I sit and indicate to him to get back to his food.

"Lindz needs me to watch Gus for the weekend," I tell him. "I hope you don't mind that he'll be staying with us."

"He's going to stay at your loft?" Justin seems surprised.

"Yeah," I respond. "It'll be fine, you'll see. He's a good kid. A little exuberant sometimes, but not too hard to take care of. Maybe we'll take him to the zoo or something. When was the last time you spent the day at the zoo, Sunshine?"

"Never."

"Really? You've never been to the zoo? Even as a kid?" I ask, thinking there must have been at least one field trip to the zoo when he was in school.

He shakes his head. "No. My class went one time, but I was being punished for something so my father refused to sign the permission slip and I had to spend the whole day sitting in the secretary's office."

"Well, that just sucks. It's about time then that you got a trip to the Zoo. We'll take Gus on Saturday." I propose and I get a kick out of watching his face light up when I say it. "Fuck, even I got to go to the zoo as a kid, Sunshine. Of course I got in trouble when I wandered off from the rest of my class to watch them feeding the tiger and then Jack beat the crap out of me as punishment when I got home, but at least I got my trip to the zoo."

Thinking about Jack brought to mind some of the things Justin said earlier about his father. I had a lot of questions about the guy. He seemed, if it was possible, more of a monster than Jack. I mean, Jack was a drunk, a womanizer and he beat me, but there was nothing calculating about him. Jack was just a dumb brutal drunk. Justin's father seemed somehow much colder, more calculating. If possible, crueler.

I'd been putting this off long enough, I guess. I sigh, not really looking forward to the discussion that I know we have to get to but determined, nonetheless. Time to tackle Daddy dearest, Justin.

"Is your father still alive, Justin?" I ask him.

He nods, setting down his chopsticks at the same time. I know how he feels - talking about Jack can kill my appetite sometimes, too.

"You've never said his name."

"Craig. Craig Taylor."

"What does he do for a living?"

"Owns a chain of electronics stores - mostly out in the suburbs."

"And your mother?"

"Her name is Jennifer. She never worked - my father wouldn't let her." Justin's voice is a lot softer when he speaks about his mother.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"Don't know. It's been a long time."

Enough with the preliminaries already, Kinney. Get on with it.

"You said earlier that he'd be proud of you - that you'd proved him right? What did you mean by that, Justin?"

"He'd say things to me. Especially after he found out about . . . He said I was trash. That I'd never amount to anything. That I was . . . A p-pervert. That I would go to hell and that I deserved it."

"Ahh, yes. The religion card. I know that one well," I interject. "The last bastion of the bigot - if you can't find any other justification for your hatred, then you can always fall back on religion and claim that whatever you dislike is a sin. It's very convenient, don't you think? My dear mother is particularly good at using that convention. I take it your father was into religion?"

Justin nods but doesn't say more.

"So, what about you? Do you believe the religious line?" I ask him, curious to see if he'd internalized all the crap his father had handed him, like so many children did, or if he'd rejected it in rebellion like me.

"No. My father always used it to hurt me. All the stuff the minister would say about God being loving and good just vanished when my father talked about God. So, I learned pretty early on not to trust in that god since he was so powerless that he'd let someone like my father use him to hurt me in spite of his supposed goodness. Pretty whimpy  
as gods go, I always thought," Justin manages a little smile as he says this, humored by his own joke, and I chuckle along.

After I pay the bill, we start the walk back to the loft. I'm relieved that he lets me put my arm around his waist again as we walk together. I've already had plenty of introspection today, so I'm not going to even let myself worry about how 'tamed' that makes me. I just go with it.

But, we still have a lot to talk about, so I decide to keep pressing forward. "I take it your father wouldn't like me much? What was that before - 'cock whore'? A little harsh, I guess, but I've had people call me worse. You don't believe that though, do you? I mean, what your homophobic father believes is one thing, but you don't really believe that I'll just stick my dick in whatever convenient hole comes along, do you?"

Justin gives a tiny shrug, his mouth all screwed up tight like he's trying to hold back something that he wants to say.

"Justin?" I press, since I'm sure he needs to get this out even if I don't want to hear it. "Why did you say those things about me, really."

"Were those guys at the baths good?" Justin asks, surprising me with the seemingly random change of topic.

"Not especially. They weren't bad, but they weren't all that memorable either." I answer honestly.

"I'm pretty good, though. At least lots of my clients have told me I'm a good fuck," Justin says, matter-of-factly.

"After having spent a little time fondling your lovely sweet ass the other morning, I'm quite sure you are. But, what's that got to do with why you said all those rather nasty things about me earlier, Justin?"

"It's just that, well, if you really needed to get off . . . If you needed to . . . Why couldn't it have been me?" he finally blurts it out. "Toby said . . . He made the comment that rent boys must not be what they used to be if you had to go get more at the baths."

"I told you, Justin, my going there today didn't have anything to do with that. I was just making a point. And, I thought we'd already established that Toby was a shit who knows nothing. A soon-to-be-fired shit at that."

"Yeah, but it . . . It still hurt, that you didn't want me. That's why I said that shit," Justin confesses. "I'm sorry for saying all that, Brian. I just wanted . . . I wanted you to want me."

Enough with the inadequate words already. I stop and turn Justin around so he's facing me, then pull him in tightly against me. With a hand on each side of his head, my fingers feathering through that gorgeous long blond hair, I tilt his face up so I can kiss him thoroughly. It starts off almost tender, our lips touching lightly. But he opens to me at once and that tiny movement sends jolts of electricity down through my spine and directly to my balls.

"Justin," I sigh into his welcoming mouth and delicately lick my way inside.

Shit, those plump, full lips of his were just made for kissing, weren't they? Between sucking and nibbling on those delectable lips, I'm also licking and tasting and I'm amazed at this sweet responsive boy and how wonderful he tastes to me. I'll never be able to get enough of this, I'm sure of it.

"How is it you taste so sweet even after eating spicy Asian food, Sunshine?" I finally manage to voice my wonder between bites, but he's not allowed a chance to answer because I immediately dive back into my own special feast.

If anyone needed further proof of exactly how much I crave this boy, the huge erection pressed between us now should do it. I drop one hand to his lower back and use it to press him harder against me. My dick loves this, apparently - it's jumping and twitching against Justin's stomach with a mind of its own. I really wish I could accommodate it's desires, but the poor guy will have to wait. For now, I concentrate on kissing this sweet little blond thoroughly enough to dispell any doubts that I indeed, very desperately, want HIM.

I only stop kissing him when it becomes apparent that if I continue I'll be at serious risk of cuming in my pants.

"Justin, I do want you. Can't you feel how much I want you? Just give it some time, okay."

"Okay," he says with a nod as he licks at his now bruised lips, making me moan at the mere sight.

“You’re killing me, Sunshine,” I groan. “Please take me home and shove me in a cold shower before I embarrass myself”.

He giggles a little but takes my hand and begins leading me home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst? Can you take even more? I know there are a lot of ansgst lovers out there. Or should I give you all a break and have some pleasant interlude break it up? There are still a lot of issues for our boys to get through. Let me know what you prefer. TAG


	20. Gratification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per one Reader's request, we have a small pleasant interlude for you before more angst. Justin gets his first ever paycheck and has absolutely no idea what to do with it. Plus, a little Gus time. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 20 - Gratification.

Gratification: The pleasurable emotional reaction of happiness in response to a fulfillment of a desire or goal.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

We take a break from our discourse when we get back to the loft. Brian needs to concentrate on preparing for the meeting with the Daddies’ Board Shop people tomorrow. He pulls me in to help him and we spend a couple of angst free hours just working together. It’s such a relief.

When Brian thinks he’s ready and there aren’t any more changes or corrections needed, at least none we can work on till we get to the office in the morning, he packs everything back up in a briefcase and he tows me behind him to the bedroom. It’s pretty early still, but I feel like I ran a marathon today - how is it that sitting on a couch just talking about feelings is so utterly exhausting? But, I’m out like a light.

After breakfast at the Diner the next morning - I ordered my own oatmeal again and a chocolate milkshake instead of orange juice - we rush to Kinnetik so the art department can make some final changes to the boards before the Daddies’ people get here at 1:00pm. I’m sitting at the desk I’ve been using, working on another idea I had for a cute little bakery called VooDoo Doughnuts* - it’s really a pretty small account, and not what Kinnetik usually takes on, but for some reason this funky, alternative bakery struck some nerve in Brian and he’s been doing their advertising for years. I’m sketching out a drawing for a new Spring campaign based on an idea I saw one of the other artists working up. I’m even contemplating approaching Jessica and asking her to work together on the idea, although I’ve never tried to work with someone like that before and I’m a little shy around the loud, outgoing and rather butch dyke. 

“Hey, Justin,” Ted says as he nears my desk, startling me - he’s been passing through the department handing out envelopes to everyone and chatting and I didn’t expect him to bother with me so I hadn’t really been paying attention to him. “Here you go. Don’t spend it all in one place!”

“Huh?” I say, holding the envelope he gave me out and looking up at him with evident confusion.

“It’s your paycheck. Brian said to put you on payroll. Normally, I wouldn’t have cut you a check yet since you haven’t worked a full pay period, but I thought you could use it after having such a tough week,” Ted says as if me getting a PAYCHECK is a NORMAL thing. “I still have a bunch of paperwork for you to fill out back in my office, but we can work on that next week sometime, okay.”

And, then Ted walks off towards the next desk in the room, handing out similar envelopes to other people. I set the strange object in my hands down on the desk in front of me and just stare at it. This is . . . . this is beyond way too much. I can’t process this at all. 

A fucking PAYCHECK?

“Justin? Are you okay? You look a little . . . odd,” Jessica is standing next to my desk and looking down at me with very concerned eyes. 

“Hmm?” I respond, still staring at the offensive envelope. 

“You look a little weird. I just came over to see if you wanted to go and get a cup of coffee with me and Felicia. But, if you don’t feel good. . .” Jessica says, still obviously worried about me.

“I’m . . . I’m fine, just a little surprised is all,” I manage, finally looking away from the envelope and up at her.

“Well, do you want to come and get a coffee? I wanted to ask you about helping out on something and I thought we could do it at Starbucks instead of here - I really need a break and to get out of this place for a few minutes. Join us.” Jessica says, smiling at me in a comradely way. 

“Um, sure. But. . . I don’t have any money. . “ saying that makes me look back at the scary envelope again.

“No biggie. You can buy next time. Let’s go,” Jessica says and hoists me from out behind the desk by my arm, practically dragging me towards the exit. 

Having coffee with Jessica and Felicia - the receptionist who Jessica recently started dating - is actually pleasurable. They are pretty easy going and seem nice. Jessica even approaches me about helping on the VooDoo Doughnuts account and we discuss my idea before heading back to the office where I plan to show her my preliminary sketches. It’s like having friends.

When we get back I notice that Toby’s desk is cleared off and even his pictures and other personal stuff is gone. I’d feel bad for him if he hadn’t been such an ass. He got what he deserved, I guess. Wonder if he’ll learn not to talk trash about his co-workers in the future.

Shit. Co-worker? I think I’m going to have to deal with that envelope. I sit down in front of it and try to work up some courage. Why I’m so fucking freaked out by a piece of folded paper, I have no idea. Finally, I brace myself, pick the fucking thing up and, without letting myself think about it, I tear open the flap on top. Inside is a weird looking piece of paper with the bottom third perforated so it comes off. There are lots of numbers all over it and acronyms for stuff I don’t know anything about. The one part I do understand though is that on the bottom part it says, ‘Pay to the Order of’ and then has my name typed in, ‘Justin Taylor’. And there’s another number with a comma in it even. I’ve never had that much money at one time before in my entire life. This has to be a mistake.

“Ted, um, sorry to bother you,” I say as I knock on his open door. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

He takes the paycheck I’m holding out to him and looks it over. “No. I don’t think so. This looks right to me. Brian said to start you at the standard intern salary for now. I know it’s not that much, but Brian said he didn’t know how long you’d want to work here so we decided to put you on the books as an intern for now. If you decide to stay for the long term, I’m sure Brian will make some changes. But, $50,000 per year isn’t that bad as a starting salary.”

He hands me back the check and I turn to walk away without saying anything more. Fifty Thousand? Dollars? What the fuck am I going to do with fifty thousand dollars. All I can think about is trying to hide that much money in my clothes so it doesn’t get stolen off me while I’m asleep under some bridge some night. It’s impossible. It’s fucking impossible. It makes no sense. Why has Brian done this to me? AGAIN!

I don’t know how much longer I was sitting at the desk in the art department - MY desk, I guess I should say now that I’m officially an employee - when Brian touches me on the arm to get my attention. Apparently he’s been standing here saying my name for several minutes and I hadn’t even blinked, causing him to start to worry again. When I do look up at him, I can’t stop the frustrated tears from leaking out of my eyes. He carefully gathers me up, the offensive check still gripped tightly in my fist, and guides me to a small conference room used by the art department which is luckily empty right now.

“What’s wrong, Justin,” Brian says, sitting down next to me at the conference table and holding the hand that’s not holding the check. “Jessica and Ted both said you’ve been upset all morning. Are you okay? Come on, Sunshine. Don’t do this to me today. We’ve got a presentation to do in about forty-five minutes.”

I shove the check at him. He’s got to know that this is impossible. Doesn’t he?

“Oh, good. You got your paycheck. I wanted to surprise you with it,” Brian says, looking all happy and excited.

“Argggggghhhhhh!” I groan and collapse with my head braced on my folded arms which are resting on the table in front of me. 

“You don’t like your paycheck?” Brian asks, noticing that I’m still upset.

“This is impossible, Brian. You have to see that. Don’t you?” I say into the folds of my shirt sleeves.

“What’s impossible about getting paid for working. You’ve been working here all week and you’ve done a great job. We’ll see in about an hour if it pays off with the Daddies’ people, but even if it doesn’t, you’ve put in the work and deserve to be paid for your time. That’s how this works, Sunshine.” Brian explains, laying his hand on the back of my neck and gently rubbing it to try to soothe away my hurt.

I decide to start with the least of the issues surrounding my getting a paycheck and go from there. “I don’t have a bank account.”

“We’ll get you one,” Brian says, as if it’s that simple.

“I don’t have any ID. You can’t open a bank account without ID.”

“We’ll get you new ID. I’m sure Ted will know what to do and where to apply to get you all that shit. In the meantime, you can just cash it at the bank. I’ll call ahead to the manager, he’s a buddy of mine, and as long as I’m there with you, he’ll cash it for you.” Brian says, so reasonably.

“I can’t carry around almost a thousand dollars. People get their throats slit for having shoes that are too nice. I won’t last a week with that much money on me.”

“Well, first of all, you don’t have to carry it all with you all the time. You can leave some of it back at the loft and only take what you need. And, secondly, you’re talking like you’re going back to the streets or something. That’s not what you’re planning are you?” Brian says, finally beginning to get a little concerned.

“Where else do you expect me to go when you’re done with me?” I demand. “Your week is up in three days. Three days, Brian! Then what? I’m a fucking street hustler Brian. I can’t be carrying thousands of dollars around on me. I have nowhere to spend that much money anyways. It’s fucking impossible.”

“Justin,” Brian says, turning my chair to face him so that I can’t hide my face in my arms anymore. “I don’t want you going back to the streets at all. Don’t you understand? You don’t have to. You have a job, now. You have money. If you don’t want to stay with me you can get your own place. You don’t have to be a street hustler, Justin.” Brian is saying these things, but I’m still having trouble with the sense behind the words. “I don’t want you to be a hustler. I want you off the streets for good. You don’t belong there. You’re too good, too talented and . . . You just shouldn’t be on the streets, okay.”

No. Not okay. This is not okay. I’ve been living on the streets for. . . actually, I don’t remember how long it’s been, but a long time. But in all that time I’ve never once thought about NOT being on the streets anymore. I’m not the kind of person that gets a job and has a normal life. I don’t get to have that, do I? That life is where my father said I would end up and that’s exactly what happened - he’s always been right before, why should now be any different? That life is what I’m supposed to be living. I can’t take this money, can I?

“Stop, Justin,” Brian demands, pulling me to my feet. “Just stop thinking so much. Put the check away for now and don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I need you to focus. I came down here to get you so we can prepare for the Daddies’ meeting. We don’t have time to deal with the check or anything else. Can you please just focus and help me with this presentation and we can work out everything else later”

“You want me to help you in the meeting?” I ask, almost as overwhelmed by that request as I was by the check.

“Yes, Sunshine. It was your idea. You can sell it better than anyone. Plus, you deserve to get the credit for it from the client. I want you in the meeting with me and Ted. So, come on. Pull yourself together and let’s do this. You CAN do this, Justin. I know you can.” Brian says, already assuming that I’m going to agree, towing me after him towards his office.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Alright, I didn’t expect that response to the little surprise I had planned. I thought putting him on payroll and giving him an actual paycheck would make him happy. But, no. Memo to self - don’t EVER try to surprise Sunshine. The better approach with Justin is to work up to things - whether it be presents, money, dessert, whatever - you first tell him about it far in advance, then let him get used to the idea and then, eventually, he’ll work around to the idea. Live and learn, Kinney.

In the meantime, I have a presentation to get ready for and I can’t deal with over-emotional twinks right now. I really, really hope I’m not making a big mistake by including Justin in this meeting. Yeah, he deserves the credit and I do think he can sell his idea better than anyone - assuming he isn’t lost in la-la-land, that is. When he’s focused and interested in an idea, the way he was the day he came up with the campaign idea, he’s engaging, intelligent and the perfect person to sell his idea. But, when he’s not focused . . . .

After I get him back up to my office, pry the offending paycheck out of his hand and put it out of sight in my desk drawer for the moment, he luckily calms right down and I think this is going to work. I outline my presentation strategy for him and he makes a couple of intelligent comments before Ted comes in with a stack of papers and all the numbers we’ll need. I finally start breathing again and I’m able to focus myself.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

The meeting is going really well. The Daddies’ people seem totally excited by the idea of using body art to display their logo and products. We show them the mock up ads we’ve already prepared using Brian’s muscley gym buddies with the tattoos airbrushed on them. If they go with television ads, I have this idea to using moving, morphing tattoos that change as you watch them. It will be great visually and Brian’s company has this great technology that will make it easy to work. The CEO and her son both seem captivated by the ideas. 

When it looks like they’ve almost bought the idea and all that’s left to work out are the numbers, Brian tells me that I can go. It’s almost 4:00 pm and Lindsey should be dropping Gus off any time now, but both Brian and Ted are still busy. So, Brian pulls me aside and asks me to see to Gus for a while until they can get things wrapped up. No problem. I’m ready to be out of here anyway - as fun as it was to present my idea to potential clients and watch them eat it up, it was also tiring and stressful. 

Brian has perfect timing. Right as I get out to the lobby, I see Lindsey coming through the doors with Gus in tow and a largish duffle bag over her shoulder. Gus runs right up to me and jumps up to get a hug. He’s really adorable and so easy to love.

Lindsey is running late so she doesn’t quibble that it’s me and not Ted or Brian taking Gus off her hands. She tosses the duffle bag on the entryway couch and shoves a list of emergency phone numbers and instructions at me, kisses Gus, kisses me too and then she’s off. She must really be looking forward to spending time at the spa with Mel, I guess. 

Gus is immediately interested in where his Dad is, but when I explain that he’s in a meeting and we’ll have to wait for him, he doesn’t give me a hard time. I offer to take him down to ‘my desk’ in the art department and set him up with some paints so we can paint together. He’s VERY enthusiastic about that idea. I’m still not all that familiar with where everything is downstairs, so I have to enlist Jessica’s help, but together we get Gus set up in front of a drafting desk with some paints, standing on a small step stool so he can reach, and covered in an old dress shirt put on him backwards and buttoned up the rear so he’s completely covered from chin to toes and won’t get any paint on his clothing. 

While Gus paints, I go back to my drawing and we work together, me helping him out every so often to remove finished works and set him up with new paper or paints or whatever materials he needs. Jessica is apparently getting into the act too, arranging little still life displays for Gus to paint. Not much actual work gets done in the office after Gus’ arrival, but we all have fun and, as Jessica says, it is Friday afternoon, so what does the Boss expect.

“We did it, Sunshine!” Brian’s voice comes booming through the room as he lopes down the stairs and into the room. “Daddies’ just signed a two year, $2 million commitment! And, its all because of your idea. You were amazing in there and they ATE IT UP!”

“Daddy!” Gus interrupts Brian’s celebration speech, jumping off his stool and running towards his dad covered neck to ankles in paint. I manage to snag the back of the paint shirt as he runs by, preventing any contact between Gus and Brian’s charcoal grey Armani suit. 

“Hey, Sonny Boy! You look like you’ve been having fun.” Brian says, finally noticing his offspring and winking at me in thanks for saving his suit. “I’m NOT going to hug you though till you’re out of that smock. What have you been doing? Taking a bath in the paints? Did any of it make it onto paper, or is is all on you, Little Man?”

“Silly, Daddy. Of course the paint made it onto the paper. I just spilled a little a couple times. Jus’n said it was okay though because he got me all covered up by this paint shirt.” Gus gushes, already trying to squirm out of the paint shirt so he can get to his dad. “Come see what I painted, daddy. Jus’n and Jessica have been helping me. I’ve been doing ‘Still Lives’ - that’s where you paint stuff that isn’t moving, Jus’n said. It doesn’t mean that the stuff you’re painting has to still be alive though. That’s what I thought at first. Funny name for paintings, huh?”

Brian is smiling indulgently down at the smaller version of himself as Gus babbles on. The doting father ooh’s and aah’s appropriately at the various works of art his child has created while I work to get the area cleaned up so we can leave. 

“Thanks for doing all of this, Justin,” Brian says as we finally get Gus’ hands cleaned and he bends down to give his son a big hug. “I didn’t know the meeting would run so late. Gus seems to have had a great time, though. You look a little worn out though. Hey, Sonny Boy, how about we pick up a couple pizzas and a movie to take home with us and we can have pizza and movie party at the loft tonight? How does that sound?”

“Yea! That sounds super, daddy! Jus’n, you can help me pick out a movie, okay?” and Gus proceeds to grab both of us by the hands and starts to tow us towards the doorway before I’ve even got my coat on.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Gus and Justin are sprawled out on the floor, lying on cushions and watching some inane animated movie about a fish. We’ve moved all the furniture out of the way so that our ‘party’ won’t be impeded. The two of them managed to polish off almost an entire pepperoni pizza by themselves. I had a couple slices of veggie pizza, which they both turned up their little button noses at. Then, they proceeded to eat an entire quart of chocolate ice cream. I have no idea where they put all that food - they are both so small, relatively speaking, but both have apparently bottomless appetites. 

This feels good. It’s been a good day. I could get used to this.

*Another Portland, Oregon original. Check out their very alternative web site! VooDoo Doughnuts - The magic is in the hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you aren't all sickened by the sweetness of this Brian. Don't worry though, he's bound to get all angsty again in the near future. TAG


	21. Adumbration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of foreshadowing of what's to come. Warning - some cute Gus moments included. Hope you enjoy. I'm going to take a nap. TAG

Chapter 21 - Adumbration.

Adumbration: To suggest, disclose or outline partially in a vague manner so as to foreshadow upcoming possible events.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm almost twenty years old. I shouldn't be this excited about a trip to the zoo. But I am. It's hard to tell from the way Gus has been bouncing around in the loft and the car - it might be excitement or it might just be all that sugar we fed him last night - but I might even be more excited about the zoo than the boy is.

Gus' family apparently are 'members', which means they go to the zoo about once a month. Or so it seems from the way Gus talks. Before we get there Gus has already described to me almost every exhibit. But, since they go all the time, I get the feeling that it's not nearly as big a deal for him as it will be for me.

We're even having breakfast at the zoo. Apparently this is sort of a tradition for Gus and Brian - they always start their zoo trips with breakfast in the restaurant that's built into the aviary. That means that while you're trying to eat your food, all these fancy, brightly colored tropical birds are flying about over your head just beyond a glass partition. It's fun, but a little disconcerting.

I'm getting used to the Diner and ordering breakfast there from Debbie, but this is a much more elegant restaurant and I don't know the menu here yet and I'm a little nervous about spending the day with Brian and Gus and . . . Well, let's just say I'm too overwhelmed to attempt ordering food myself today. I let Brian order for me the same as he does for Gus and I'm only a little bit ashamed, but I'm really too distracted by the birds to worry for long.

After breakfast, Gus takes charge of the outing. He drags us EVERYWHERE! I'm not joking - we have to see every single exhibit and there is a specific order that Gus has planned carefully. I'd love to go slower, read all the signs and watch the fascinating animals, maybe even sketch some in my drawing pad that I brought along in a backpack I borrowed from Brian. But that is not allowed according to Gus' mental adgenda. I think that maybe I'll come back to the zoo all by myself sometime and take my time.

We have greasy burgers for lunch while sitting near the elephant exhibit. Lucky for us that the weather has turned and it's actually pretty warm out, because I think we'd have to sit here for lunch even in a blizzard, from the way Gus acts. Then we have have to go to the Northwest Tundra exhibit and the Amazon Rainforest exhibit before we finally are allowed a break to sit in the open air amphitheater while we watch a show where several of the zoo animals perform rather cool tricks - eagles are flying free around my ears, trained geese clean up trash off the stage, even a trained skunk comes out and does handstands. I'm absolutely amazed by all this. I thought zoos were just sad animals in cages, but I guess I was way off.

My favorite part of the day comes next. Gus talks Brian into going with him into the corral to pet and groom the pigmy angora goats. Brian looks horrified at the idea of stepping in goat shit and brushing smelly little goats with curry combs, but he does it nonetheless for Gus. I use my nifty new camera phone to snap a couple of great photos and plan to later draw at least one scene that is adorable - the two of them sitting on a rock, Brian holding a baby goat in his lap while Gus pets it.

Gus finally begins to tire about two in the afternoon. Thank god because I'm about to pass out from exhaustion by then and I can tell from Brian's expression he's feeling the same. We trudge back out to the car, load Gus in and head for home. Gus is sound asleep in his carseat before we've even left the parking lot.

Back at the loft, Brian carries Gus from the car and puts him into the bed. I'm watching as Brian tenderly pulls the blankets up to the boy's chin. He tucks him in and then kisses him sweetly on the forehead. When he turns around, Brian has the sweetest smile on his lips that I've ever seen. It hurts my heart to look at it for some reason and I almost feel like crying, but I don't know why.

Brian gets us both beers and we crash together on the couch. Images from the day are zooming around in my head. It feels like I'm missing something but I'm too tired to think straight. I let my eyes close for just a second.

'That sort of display is disgusting if you ask me. Look as those two kids - acting like such know-it-alls, interrupting adults who are speaking, correcting the minister even - its ridiculous. I tell you, one day Frank and Cece are going to regret not disciplining those kids better.'

'Craig, it's a church picnic. It's not like it's some formal event where the children would be considered to be acting out. Besides, it's none of our business,' my mother cautions him.

'I don't care if it's just a picnic. It still galls me to see such impertinent, presumptuous children. They're a bad influence on all the other kids, Justin included. Those children need to be taught a lesson,'

Father goes on and on in the same vein for almost the entire picnic. The more he talks, the more nervous I get. He can't teach those other kids a lesson, which means he's likely to want to teach me one instead.

I was watching Jimmy and Grace Peters. They didn't seem impertinent to me. They seemed happy. Their dad was encouraging them to recite passages for the minister from some book or play they'd been reading. Their dad was laughing at them and teasing them and they all seemed just . . . Happy. But my father didn't like seeing them being happy, I guess. Maybe that's why he seemed intent on making sure I'd never be happy either.

'Follow me, Justin,' he says as soon as he pulls the car into the driveway at home.

He indicates I should take a seat at the kitchen table. I wait while he brings me paper and a pencil. He's pacing back and forth in front of the table for several minutes before he eventually turns towards me and I prepare myself for the lecture I know is coming.

'Did you see the improper way those Peters brats were behaving today at church, Justin?' I nod, knowing that I dare not say anything. 'I don't EVER want to see you behaving in such an impertinent, indecent and presumptive manner. It was disgusting. If I were their parent I'd have been mortified to be seen with those children.'

'So, just to make sure that we never have that experience, I think it's important to review 'The Rules'. I'll dictate and you will write. Then, you will copy the rules out one hundred times so we will be sure they've sunk in sufficiently. Pick up the pencil, Justin.'

'Number one: Children should be seen and not heard. Number two: Achild should never interrupt an adult when he's speaking. Number three: A child should never criticize or correct an adult, especially in front of another adult. Number four: Children should always be polite to all adults at all times. Number five: A child should never pretend to know more than an adult. Number six . . . '

"Justin. Wake up, Sunshine. You're dreaming," Brian's voice penetrates my dream. "Bad one?"

"No. Just . . . My father, being my father," I answer.

"Tell me," Brian prompts.

"He had lots of rules. About everything, really. But mostly about what I couldn't do."

"Yeah. Jack was like that too. Only his rules seemed to change a lot depending on whatever I was doing that annoyed him at the time. He'd come up with these new rules, shit I'd never heard of before, and then after he beat the crap out of me he'd complain about how shitty my memory was that I couldn't remember the rule that he'd just made up but was sure he'd told me a hundred times," Brian explains.

"My father was the same," I tell him. "Only it was harder for me because I had proof that he kept changing the rules. When I was about twelve, he sat me down one Sunday and made me write down all the rules. He stood in front of me and dictated them to me while I wrote them down. There were fifty or sixty altogether. Afterwards he made me copy them all out one hundred times each. I didn't even finish that night. I had to finish up the next day after school. And he told me to keep the stack of papers when I'd finished," I relate to him the basis of my dream.

"So here I was thinking I finally had the list - the rules - all you needed to know. If I just played by theses rules then I'd be okay, right? I was actually kind of relieved to have to sit and write these all down, you know, because now it was all clear and it would be easy from here on out, right?"

"But it didn't work. There were always new rules. At first, I'd go back to the original list and read through it to try to find out where I'd gone wrong. Like maybe I'd missed something. Maybe this new thing was there on the list and I'd somehow forgotten it or something. But, no. It wouldn't be there. Then for a while I'd add the new rules to the list, thinking that eventually I'd get a complete copy."

"But it never worked like that. I even tried once to use the list to prove to him that I hadn't broken the rules, that his new rule wasn't there. That's when he took the list away and burned it. He said that I was being presumptuous, that I shouldn’t try to out think my elders and I should never correct him. He was the adult and knew better and I knew nothing. And he burned the list to make sure I wouldn't ever know."

"It was never about the rules, Justin. It was only about the power. The power to make you do what he wanted whenever he wanted it. At least that's what it was with Jack," Brian said quietly, kissing my temple as he spoke.

"Gus?"

"Fuck no! I'll never do that to Gus. Never," Brian states emphatically.

"You know I was always afraid to have kids," Brian adds after a few moments of silence. "I never would have done it if Lindsey hadn't gotten me a little drunk that night and then backed it up with tons of flattery. And even then I told myself that I'd just be the sperm donor and not a parent. I didn't want to fuck him up the way my parents screwed me up, you know?"

"Then, when I saw him that first night and held him in my arms. . . I don't know. Something happened. I just knew I wanted to be in his life. I wanted to take care of him and make sure he didn't get hurt. Now, I can't imagine my life without him in it."

"You're a good dad, Brian," I tell him, leaning into his shoulder and snuggling deeper into his embrace. "I watched you today. You have some rules, not many, but the ones you have are reasonable and, for the most part, you apply them consistently. Gus is lucky to have a dad like you."

"Thanks. It means a lot that you see that and . . . Well, just thanks."

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

When Gus wakes up from his nap, we head to the Diner for dinner. Gus needs some Gramma Deb time and Justin and I could use the break. After ten minutes, though, I'm not sure this was such a good idea. The Diner is packed with the pre-club weekend crowd. And boy are these guys horny tonight. I have to send more than a few on their way, but I never trick when I've got Gus. I mean, how brazen do you have to be to come on to someone sitting at a booth with a four year old kid, especially when I've got my arms around another man. That's fucking bold. By the third 'I'm not interested' even Justin is getting a bit peeved.

So I hustle them out of there as soon as possible. We stop at a toy store on the way home and I indulge my boys by buying them enough video games to keep them busy the rest of the night: Pajama Sam for Gus and Halo for Justin. Weirdly, Justin tells me he's never played a video game before, since his father wouldn't allow them. I have plans to educate him about this later, when Gus isn't around.

After I get them home and set up on the computer, I realize I might have made a mistake. Justin seems much more interested in helping the little boy, Pajama Sam, conquer his fear of the dark, while Gus would prefer to blow the fuck out of aliens. I guess those age recommendations on the side of the box really are just suggestions after all.

Eventually I convince Gus its time to get some sleep. We make him up a bed on the couch and Justin and I head into the bedroom. Where the fuck does Gus get all that energy, I wonder. When I see my own face in the mirror as I'm getting ready for bed, I realize that the answer is that he sucks it out of me. Even though I'm horny as hell after all those propositions earlier at the Diner, I'm out like a light.

Something hot and hard pressing against my side wakes me up early the next morning. My little ray of Sunshine is sporting an awesome amount of morning wood today. If only I was allowed to do something fun with it. But, besides my promise not to, there were also the tricky issues of Justin tending to freak out whenever I touched him unawares, as well as my growing realization that, as soon as I did start to indulge some of these fantasies, that boner would disappear faster than the free condoms in Babylon's back room.

I've been wondering about that issue a lot. It's something that Justin hasn't told me about yet, except by way of passing comments that he doesn't, or maybe can't, get those feelings anymore. But if the boner poking into my side is any indication, he most definitely CAN get those feelings. So, what's causing the malfunctions the rest of the time?

I guess that too will eventually come out in one of our 'therapy' sessions. I really hope it's not a permanent problem - Justin wasn't exactly far off the mark with his 'cock whore' comment, I suppose. I do like a man with a nice cock. And, Justin's would definitely qualify as nice, provided it's fully functional. Not that that would ever stop me - just one more of the benefits of being a top. But, it's just one more thing that he has to deal with that he shouldn't have to face.

Since I cant do anything to help him with that or any other issues he might have right at this very moment, though, I give over worrying and let myself just enjoy the feeling of waking up with this lovely young man in my arms on a lazy Sunday morning. My mind starts to drift through various fantasies involving that lovely young stiffy and it's beautiful blond owner. Aaah, what we could do if only . . .

"Daddy? I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?" says my not-yet-four-year-old, who is standing at the foot of my bed, thumb in mouth and rubbing his sleepy eyes, causing my delicious fantasy to screech to an unattractive halt.

I motion to him to come around to my side of the bed, putting a finger across my lips at the same time to warn him to be quiet.

"Give me just a minute to get up and get dressed, Sonny Boy," I whisper. "While you're waiting maybe you could look at one of your books quietly. We don't want to wake up Justin yet. He needs his beauty sleep, you know."

"That's silly, Daddy. Jus'n doesn't need any more beauty sleep. He's already pretty enough, don't you think?" Gus whispers back, not so quietly.

"Yes, Gus, I think he's pretty, too. But how do you think he got that way, hmm? It takes a lot of sleep to get that beautiful," I reply, noting the smile spreading across the beauty's face as I speak. "Now, go on and let me get ready."

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. You can open your eyes now since I know you're not asleep anymore."

"Don't want to. I'm too comfy and relaxed," Justin complains, rolling back slightly, enough to allow me to disentangle my legs from the sheets.

"Well, it doesn't look to me like you're that relaxed," I say, purposefully reaching down to brush against his briefs-clad crotch and the stiffness still evident there.

"Mmmmm," he says at first, arching to press himself against my hand, but almost at the same instant getting that worried, lip-biting look on his face as the hard on melts away. "Damn."

"We need to work on that, Sunshine," I whisper, kissing his worrying lips before I get out of bed and head for the shower.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Damn it. Damn, damn, damn. What the fuck is wrong with me? There's nothing I want more in the world, right now, than to have Brian lying in bed with me playing with my dick. But I can't stay hard. It's so fucking frustrating.

Fuck my father for doing this to me. I've started remembering things a little and I know they're part of it. I don't remember everything yet - I know there's something else that I just can't remember - but I do know it's his fault. I just don't know if it can be fixed.

'Sleeping Beauty' - I laugh to myself at Brian's teasing nick name. I wonder if he does, really, think I'm pretty or if that was just for Gus. Do I want him to think I'm 'pretty'? Why? What would that mean, anyway? Tomorrow is the end of our week and I'm still unsure what's going to happen to me after that.

It's so confusing. I don't know what I want. I can't quite figure out what Brian wants. I don't know where I'll be three days from now. The only thing I do know is that I'd really like for Brian to come back to bed and fuck me right now - screw waiting for one more day - only he won't do that. And, that ball of pain and uncertainty that lives in my gut, the one that was feeling much better the past few days, is starting to grow and ache again. I don't do stress and uncertainty well.

No time to wallow in my insecurities, though. I hear a muffled crash from out in the living area and jump out of bed, pulling on sweats as I go, to see what mischief Gus is up to this early. Luckily it's only a minor disaster, and it takes the two of us only a couple minutes to restock the DVDs that had been knocked over.

By the time Brian emerges from the bedroom, showered and dressed and looking, if possible, even more yummy than ever, I've got Gus seated next to me on the sofa occupied with a pencil and paper, teaching him how to draw some basic shapes and use them to make other figures. Brian seems surprised and maybe even a little impressed that I've managed to control the four year old so easily. He gives me a smile and shakes his head a little as he walks towards us.

"What do my two favorite boys want to do today?" Brian says, scooping us both into a big hug with his strong, long arms.

"We're doing art, Daddy. Jus'n is teaching me to draw like a real artist. You wanna learn too, Daddy?" Gus asks, showing his dad the man made of triangles, circles and rectangles I drew for him.

I don't have to say anything - my growling stomach gives away what I'd like to do first this morning. Brian giggles at the rude noise and nuzzles into my neck. God he smells so good after his shower. I let myself breathe him in for a minute and I can almost forget . . .

"Daddy, I think Jus'n is hungry. You better get us fed some breakfast," Gus directs his father, setting aside the drawing materials.

"You're right, Sonny Boy. I'd better get you both fed. But that means you have to get dressed, young man. So hurry up or Auntie Em will have already eaten all the pink Fairy Princess donuts at the Diner before we get there."

"He better not have. I always get a pink Fairy Princess donut on Sundays. Gramma Deb saves one for me special. You can have a chocolate Prince of Darkness donut, Jus'n - they’re good too, but not as good as the Princess ones . . ." The rest of what Gus was going to say on the all important subject of his morning donut is lost as he pulls a shirt on over his head, inside out on the first try, unfortunately.

I head to the bedroom to get dressed myself while Brian facilitates the dressing of the preschooler, which seems to involve a lot of giggling, tickling and occasional shrieks of laughter. By the time I'm done, Gus has all his clothes on, right side out this time, and Brian is kneeling in front of the couch tying on Gus' sneakers. They are so good together. Gus has no idea how fucking lucky he is to have a father like Brian.

I sigh, shake my head to dispel the melancholy, and plaster a not-too-fake smile on my face as I near the two. Both of them look up at me at the same time wearing identical sweet smiles. It almost makes me want to cry. I'm a mess this morning. What the fuck is my problem? I need to adjust my attitude before I ruin the day for Gus and Brian, though, so I quickly turn away until I can get myself back under control.

When we reach the Diner, we do find Emmett there, as Brian predicted, but the donut he's about to eat doesn't resemble anything a princess would have on her. Em's donut has two round blobs at one end with a larger, longer piece of donut sticking up between them and it says 'bite me' written along the shaft in curly pink frosting. He's just about to stab into one of the balls with his fork as we all pile into the booth with him.

"Morning boys! And how are you, Gus, Sweetie? I was just about to start on my morning Cock-N-Balls. I figured I'd let myself indulge since I didn't get one last night, you know," Em says as he forks the donut in question.

Emmett's Donut! 

Auntie Em, you didn't already eat my Fairy Princess, did you?" Gus asks with great seriosness in spite of all the giggles his question raises.

"Of course not, darling. Gramma Deb has your Fairy Princess waiting for you behind the counter. I'll hold out for my own Fairy Prince and in the meantime I’ll just make do with any random cock-n-balls that come along," answers Em, forking back into the treat on his plate already.

"Gus, why don't you run over and tell Gramma Deb we're here and get your donut," Brian suggests, good naturedly shaking his head as the boy runs off to find Deb. "Jesus, Honeycutt! Couldn't you lays off with the sexual innuendos a little bit. The kid isn't even four yet?"

"Sorry, Bri. But you know with Debbie Novotny as a grandma he's heard a lot worse already,” Emmett apologizes. “Besides, you were the one who hooked your dirty donut making client up with Debbie in the first place. I can't help it if their donuts are not child appropriate.”

Ted joins us and everyone is busy laughing at Emmett as he playfully licks the last of the cream from his donut off his fingers. I'm not laughing for some reason though. I'm still on edge and nervous. I feel like something bad is going to happen.

Deb comes barreling up to the table at that point to get our orders. She doesn't seem to be her usual bubbly self though, which makes me even more tense. It's got to be something bad, and from the sly glances she's darting my direction, I'm afraid it's something about me.

"Morning boys! Brian, you want your usual?" Debbie asks, getting directly to the point, which in itself is unusual for her.

"Sounds fine, Deb," Brian replies then looks my way. "Sunshine?"

I can't do it today. I'm way too worked up so I just shake my head at Brian who sighs and orders my breakfast for me. He squeezes my hand under the table to let me know it's okay.

"I'll get those orders right in for you guys," says Deb as she stows her order pad back in her apron and then turns back to Brian. "Brian, can I talk to you real quick."

Brian gets up and follows Deb to the far side of the Diner. I can't hear what they're saying, but they keep looking back at me the whole time. Fuck. I have this strong urge to run. The only thing keeping me in my seat is the fact that Gus is sitting next to me which means I can't get out of the booth without shoving him aside. Finally, Debbie hands Brian a piece of paper which they both look at before they turn to look at me.

As Brian comes back to the booth, paper in hand and Debbie at his heels, I feel like I'm about to either faint or explode - I won't know which until I find out what's on that paper.

"Gus, honey, why don't you come with me and we can see if Julio has any special treats for you in the kitchen. How's that sound," Deb says, clearly getting Gus away so we 'adults' can talk.

Brian is pretty calm though. He's not visibly angry or upset, which helps me a little. He slides back into the booth next to me. Then he pushes the piece of paper towards me along the table top.

"Someone's looking for you, Sunshine." Brian says quietly.

I look down at the 'Missing Person' flyer sitting on the table in front of me and see my own picture staring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, yes. The cliffhanger. What a quaint and yet annoying literary convention. Don't you just love it! He he he. TAG


	22. Catharsis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are reaching a climax here together, readers! Aren't you excited! Sorry about a shorter than usual chapter, but it kinda had to end where it did - you'll see why. Lots of Angst mixed in with Lots of Cute Gus moments in this chapter so be warned. But, for Flossee and any others who can only take so much Gus cuteness before their gag reflexes kick in, you should know that if you can only make it through this one more chapter then Gus's role will have been fulfilled and he'll be much scarcer for the rest of the story. Hope you all enjoy! TAG

Chapter 22 - Catharsis.

Catharsis: The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"Oh my goodness. Is that really you, baby?" Emmett cries out, grabbing the flyer out of Justin's hands to peruse the picture and written description more closely. "It is. Where'd you get this, Bri?

"Deb saw it down at the police station last night when she stopped by to see her police dick boyfriend," I tell him, carefully watching an unresponsive Justin out of the corner of my eye. "Horvath pulled up the original report for her to peek at. It was filed by Jennifer Taylor - Justin's mother."

That announcement got a bit of a reaction from my silent blond finally. I'm not sure it was a positive reaction though - at the mention of his mother's name, Justin collapses backwards, slumping against the back of the seat. His face turns an ugly ashen grey color. His breathing is rapid and I'm starting to worry about hyperventilation. I knew he was likely to be upset by this, but I was thinking it would be a return to his anger from the other day - I hadn't expected the withdrawal again. Fuck, when am I going to figure this kid out?

"Justin? Sunshine, look at me," I try to get his attention. "This might not be a bad thing. Your mother wouldn't have done this if she wasn't worried about you. Maybe she wants a second chance. You said that she tried to stand up for you and protect you. Maybe she still wants to try to do that and that's why she's trying to find you."

"What if it's him? She's only doing it because of him?" Justin mutters.

"If it's really your father looking for you, you just tell him to fuck off and leave you alone," I try to reassure him. "Justin, I won't let him hurt you. You're an adult now and he can't legally make you do anything but if he tries something I'll stop him, no matter what. I promise, Justin."

"You can't promise that, Brian," he finally speaks, snorting in derision at my noble offer to protect him. "He's got money. He has friends with even more money. You can't protect me against him if he really wants me."

"Bullshit. Justin, I swear. I don't care how much money the fucker has, I won't let him hurt you. Do you hear me?"

Justin says nothing. He's still slumped in the corner of the booth looking like he's trying to make himself so small that he disappears from view. Ted and Em are blinking in shock across the booth from me. While they both know a little about Justin's background, neither knew this much about the issues with his father. Or maybe those shocked looks are just because they aren't used to seeing Brian Kinney acting all über-protective. Either way, they're as silent as Justin, so we're all just sitting here in complete silence when Gus returns with a chocolate-milkshake-bearing Debbie in tow.

"Look what Julio made for me, Daddy. I got to watch him put the milk and the ice cream in the blenner and everything," Gus delights in his treat, but stops mid-sip when he senses something is wrong at the table and, with unerring instincts focuses on Justin. "What's wrong, Jus'n? Do you feel sick?"

"I'm okay, Gus," Justin manages to say. "I just saw something that scared me a little. But I'll be okay."

"What'd you see?" Gus asks, looking around the room as if he is expecting ghosts to pop out from under the tables.

"It's nothing. Just an old picture."

"Can I see, too?" Gus asks in a tiny voice.

"It's nothing too scary, Gus," I say, grabbing the flyer to show the boy, not wanting to get him all worried over nothing. "it was only that Justin saw this flyer.

"Hey, that's you, Jus'n! What do the words say, Daddy."

Shit, now I have to try to find a way to explain this all to my very innocent son.

"It says that I'm 'Missing', Gus," Justin starts to explain on his own. "See, my father wasn't nice to me. He's not like your father who loves you and takes care of you. My father was mean. So, I ran away from him a long time ago. And now, my mother is trying to find me again so she had the police send out these flyers. That way when I see the flyer, like I did just now, I know that she wants to talk to me and that I should call her."

"Oh," Gus shrugs his understanding, as if a parent being so mean that he drives away his son makes perfect sense. "Are you gonna call her now that you saw the flyer?"

"Maybe. But I need to think about it first." Justin says.

"Okay. But we get to finish breakfast first, right?" Gus says, apparently concerned that Justin's need to call his mother is going to interrupt the more important objective of getting his tummy filled.

"Of course we'll finish breakfast, Gus," Justin easily concedes that food always has a higher priority than family drama.

Justin sits up and, when our food arrives, he begins eating as if everything is normal. I catch Gus patting Justin's hand with his smaller one every so often and watch Justin's corresponding smiles at the boy.

It looks like the morning has been saved by the four year old. Again.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Gus is yelling at the top of his lungs, pretending to be a pirate and climbing all over a brightly painted play structure at the park where we go after breakfast. Brian is sitting next to me on the park bench, his arm draped casually over my shoulder while he watches his offspring's exploits. Me? I'm sitting here quietly having a total mental breakdown.

The Missing Person flyer is safely folded and tucked away in the rear pocket of Brian's jeans. But it's image is all I can really see. Why? Why would she do this? And why now? It makes no sense.

Before we left the Diner, Deb sat down at the booth and explained what she'd found out about the original missing persons report filed by my mother. It said that I was last seen at a relative's house in Philadelphia? The report had been filed several months ago - about two years, therefore, after he'd made me leave. So why would she have waited so long to do this and why the lie about the relative? Why bother to look for me at all?

And, most importantly, what the fuck do I do about it?

"Tell me about her. Your mother," Brian says quietly from his place next to me.

I guess it was obvious that I'm still obsessing over that flyer. But how do I describe my mother to him? My perceptions of her are so skewed by my fear and hatred of my life back then. I'm not sure I even clearly remember what she looks like anymore. Everything I experienced was seen through the haze of my misery.

"She's petite and blonde, like me. My father didn't want her to work so she stayed home and took care of the house and me. It's funny, though - even though I know she was a stay-at-home mom, I don't remember seeing her around the house as much as I do my father. I guess you could say she was always eclipsed by my father who has a much larger personality," I try to explain, sifting through my hazy memories.

"I think she felt sorry for me. She wasn't very strong though. My father always won every argument. She always backed down and let him do whatever he wanted," I finish, a little bit sad that I really can't say anything more positive about her.

Brian reaches over and strokes my cheek. It's such an intimate gesture for such a public place and it surprises me. God, He's so strong and so sure of himself, it makes me almost ashamed to be such a pathetic, timid, frightened faggot. He's been through some of the same shit that I have, so how come he turned out so much stronger than me?

"I could talk to her for you," he offers almost shyly, apparently unsure how I'll respond to this idea. "I could find out more about what she wants and make sure that your father really isn't the one behind all this. Then, at least you'd have more information, and you could use that to decide what you want to do next."

"You'd do that for me?" I'm astounded and still a little confused by everything this man is willing to do for me

"Of course. If you want me to," he answers. "Sunshine, I'd do any . . . I'd do a lot more than that to help you."

"Okay," I decide to try to be as strong as he is for once. "Maybe you could just call her. But, don't tell her where I am."

"Alright, I'll call. Do you want me to go do it right now?"

"No. Tomorrow's soon enough," I tell him because I'm not yet that strong.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

After the park, Gus talks us into taking him to see the latest animated movie. I really wasn't that hard of a sale though since, even though I couldn't give a crap about the adventures of some weird little animated man and his horde of semi-evil mutant assistants, I do enjoy an hour and a half long span of time where Gus sits still. Plus, I don't mind making out with Justin in the darkness of the theater during the movie, either.

I wish Justin would perk up a little, though. I know he's still freaking out over the Missing Person flyer, but, still. He's just so quiet and sad and still. I'd much rather have the angry, yelling, ranting version back, please. Him I can deal with. This quiet man next to me is more difficult.

After the movie we head back to the loft where I manage to talk Gus into a short nap. I use the time to go through my email and do some work. Justin sits in his favorite chair over by the window and draws for awhile, but when I look up later, I see he's fallen asleep. Aah! Peace and quiet at last!

"Father, please. I don't want to do this. I promise I'll be better. Please."

Justin's cries warn me that he's lost in another dream or flashback. I feel so bad for him having to go through this over and over. I wonder if it's always happened like this or if it's only since he came here and we started our 'therapy'. Poor kid, though, if he had to bear these experiences all alone out on the streets.

I'm over to the chair where he was napping in seconds and I pull him down onto the floor where I can hold him as I try to comfort him. It's not working this time - I can tell this is a really bad one. He's not calming and I can't even seem to wake him up. Shit. What do I do? The shower again? I figure I'll wait on that for a while and instead I just sit with him, holding him and talking to him.

"I'm sorry Mom. I'm so sorry. . . "

"Shhh, Justin. It's okay. You're safe. It's going to be okay," I keep whispering comforting nonsense at him hoping he will calm eventually, but so far it's not working.

"Daddy? What's wrong with Jus'n?" I hear Gus say as he pads out of the bedroom where he was napping, trailing his favorite 'blankie'.

Shit. Now I'm not only worried about Justin but also about Gus seeing this and getting scared himself. Bad timing, Sunshine.

"It's okay, Sonny Boy," I try to reassure the boy, even though I'm not all that calm myself. "Justin's having a bad nightmare is all. You've had scary dreams sometimes, right? That's all this is."

"Why doesn't he just wake up then and make it stop?" Gus asks, logically.

"He can't, Gus. Sometimes his nightmares are so bad he gets trapped in them and it's really hard for him to wake up. We just have to sit with him and wait."

Gus does just that. He sits on the floor on the other side of Justin and pats at him affectionately and whispers nice little comforting nothings just like me. Maybe it helps, since within five minutes, Justin stops muttering and his eyelids begin to flutter.

"G-Gus?" Justin asks, clearly confused by the circumstances of his awakening.

"He's awake, Daddy. Jus'n it's okay. My Daddy's gonna take care of you," Gus repeats, squeezing Justin's hand.

"Sonny Boy, can you do me a big favor? Can you please run to the kitchen and get Justin a bottle of water out of the fridge?" I ask, and the boy jumps up happily and scampers off.

"Is Gus alright? Did I scare him?" Justin asks immediately as soon as the boy is gone.

"Maybe a little, at first, but he's a trooper. He just wanted to sit and help take care of you. He's so great. I love that boy so much." I respond, letting all my pride show.

"Here, Daddy. Here's the water. Can I do something else to help?" Gus says as he sets the water on the floor near my side.

"Thanks, Sonny Boy. You're a huge help. Now, go into the bathroom and get a towel for me. You need to get it a little wet - not drippy, sopping wet, but just a little damp, okay? And bring that back here, too. Can you do that?"

"Yep! I'll be right back."

While Gus is off on his errand, I make sure Justin drinks some of the water. I can see he's trying to cover his eyes to block out the sun coming through the big loft windows. He must have another migraine.

"Hey, let's get you into the bedroom where there's not so much light," I suggest.

"Um hmm," Justin mumbles but helps out when I pull him to his feet and then shuffles along at my side with his eyes closed as I guide him to the bed.

Gus meets us there with the wet, slightly too drippy but pretty good for a four year old, towel which I use to wipe away the sweat and tear stains off Justin's beautiful pale face.

"Gus, will you stay with Justin for a minute while I go get some medicine for him?" I ask the little boy who's perched on the foot of the bed, staring with huge eyes at the scene taking place.

"Sure, Daddy," he agrees immediately and moves up to Justin's side to take my place while I go find the aspirin.

When I get back, Justin is sitting up with his back leaning against the head of the bed, one arm wrapped around Gus while the other is still covering his face to ward off the light. I move around to the other side. I shake the aspirin bottle to tell him I'm here and he holds out his open hand. I shake out three but he indicates he wants more so I add three more to the pile then give him the water to wash them down. Then I crawl onto the bed too and encircle both boys with my own longer arms, and we wait there together till its better.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Gus is such a sweet kid. He's sitting with me, holding my hand and trying to comfort me, doing all the things he sees his father doing. Watching the two of them together, seeing how kind they are, both to me and to each other, brings on the tears again.

This is how it should have been for me. It's how it should be for every child, isn't it? To have a loving, kind father who takes care of his son and cherishes him. Not a father who yelled at me, insulted me, punished me for nothing and caused me to learn to fear him. I could have had this?

I should have had this. Damn him to Hell! What right did my father have to take this away from me.

I finally realize that my father was wrong. He was the one who was worthless, not me. He failed as a father long before I failed as a son. He was the one who was a worthless failure. He didn't even come close to living up to the standards a father should have met. It was him, not me, that was worthless trash and he was the one who didn't deserve to live.

I deserved to have a real father. I DESERVED better. ME. I deserved better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we all climaxed together do you feel better? I know I do. Ahh. Maybe I need to stop and have a cigarette. No, I'll just go back to writing some more. Who did you guess had filed the missing person's report? All you who were thinking it was Daphne, don't beat yourselves up too much - a visit from the best friend may be just over the horizon *wink, wink*. Thanks for all of your comments, reviews and the overwhelming response of all the readers for this story. Love it! TAG


	23. Revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One big revelation here - but thanks to Justin's new attitude, ala Gus, he's not freaking out over it the way he might have at the beginning of the week. More revelations to come, hot and heavy, in the next few chapters. Other things are likely also to be cuming hot and heavy, but you'll see that for yourselves as you keep on reading! Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 23 - Revelation.

Revelation: A surprising and previously unknown fact, esp. one made in a dramatic way.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Family dinner at Debbie’s - what can I say? Even those in a stable emotional situation often find it horrific and frightening. I wasn’t sure how Justin was going to handle it, especially after the day he’d had so far. But, Debbie wasn’t going to let us out of the Diner this morning until I promised on Gus’s life to bring the three of us to dinner tonight. So here I was with my son and Justin in tow and not sure what was likely to happen.

Strangely enough, though, Justin has been in a better mood this afternoon after he woke up from that last nightmare. He didn’t say much afterwards - probably because Gus was there - but he seemed. . . different. I did ask him, briefly when Gus was occupied watching TV what the dream was about, but he said he didn’t remember it. So, that wasn’t what caused this change. I planned to ask him about it later tonight when the munchers had taken back their sweet but nosy preschooler.

As we entered the kitchen, there was a roar of laughter out of those already present - Ted, Emmett, Mikey, Ben and Vic. Ted was handing over what looked like a twenty to Emmett who was bouncing in his seat and clapping. It looked like we’d missed something rather entertaining.

“Goodie!” Emmett exclaimed as he palmed the money Ted reluctantly let go of. “I mean, goodie for winning the bet, but also that he finally did it! It’s about time he came out and told the truth. I mean, really. . . nobody ever really believed he was straight, did they?”

“Hello, boys!” I say as I pulled around a chair and joined the circle around the table, while Gus ran off to watch TV and Justin found a chair in the corner. “Why is Theodore paying you, Honeycutt? Did you finally break down and give him that blow job he’s been begging you for?”

“Ha ha, Brian. Not that I wouldn’t, Teddy, but I’d never charge you,” Em said, giving me a dirty look. “If you must know, Brian, I just won a little wager we had about a certain celebrity that I just knew was gay. Teddy didn’t believe me so we bet on it and lookie here is today’s newspaper. He finally came out!”

“Theodore, you should know better than to bet against Emmy Lou’s gaydar.” I admonish the abashed accountant. 

“I know. I know. But, that guy? How the hell did he know that guy was gay. He had a fucking fiancee for christ’s sake.

“From the article, it looks like the guy didn’t have much choice about coming out,” Ben comments. “Seems he was caught in flagrante delicto at a gay club in L.A. Not really the place you would hang out if you weren’t gay, I’m afraid.”

“Ouch. That’s NOT the way to come out,” Emmett sympathizes. “He would have been much better just making an announcement, like civilized gay boys do, rather than getting caught like that. When will these Hollywood types learn?”

“Yeah. Like there’s a GOOD way to come out?” Ted asks.

“Well, there’s definitely better ways than that!” Michael adds his two cents. “So how did you do it, Em?”

“Well. . . I didn’t exactly have to come out, per se. I was always a little bit out there, you know. Let’s face it, you can’t look like this,” Emmett says, standing and spinning with his hands in the air as he spoke, “in Hazelhurst, Mississippi and hide the fact that you’re gay.”  
Everyone was laughing at Emmy Lou’s antics when Ted added his story. “I got outed in college. Turns out the fraternity I joined didn’t really take kindly to me and Eric Downey being discovered naked in the alumni room. I really liked that fraternity, too.”

“Poor baby,” Deb joins the conversation. “Sometimes I think Michael here had it too easy - what with me and his Uncle Vic as the only family he had, he didn’t really have to worry about coming out. In fact, we both got tired of waiting for him to get around to it so I ended up telling him he was gay when he was fifteen, just to get it over with. Ha!”

“What about you, Brian? What happened when you came out?” Emmett asks me, the curiosity figuratively dripping from his tone.

“Well, I didn’t ‘come out’ like you lot. I just started going to the clubs and the bars as soon as I got my first fake ID. I was practically living here by that time already so I didn’t really have to tell these guys, did I? It was a piece of cake.”

“Yeah, but what about your family. What happened when you told them,” Em pushes.

“Well, I told Jack just after he told me he was dying of cancer. First, he almost hit me and then he told me it was a shame I wasn’t the one dying. As for St. Joan, well, she just found out the other day, thanks to Justin here and his boundless enthusiasm.” I smile at Justin to ease any possible sting from my words, but surprisingly he’s smiling at me. “She apparently wasn’t prepared to see Justin hop into my lap and give me a big wet one on the lips. I’m afraid it drove her screaming out of my office. Haven’t had to talk to her since, which is just fine with me. I’m really thankful to Justin for finally ridding me of her.”

“You never told your mother until just now?” Emmett’s amazed. “I can’t see the Stud of Liberty Avenue hiding that he was gay from his mother.”

“I wasn’t ‘hiding’ it, Honeycutt. I just didn’t care enough about her to bother telling her. There’s a big difference. Frankly, it’s none of her business who I fuck so if I’d never got around to telling her, I don’t see what the big deal would have been.” I respond.

“Don’t call me Honeycutt.” Em demands, completely ignoring the point I was trying to make while everyone around the table laughs at how annoyed he gets.

“I got caught giving the son of one of my father’s store managers a blow job in the store bathroom,” Justin says in a quiet but strong voice from the corner where he’s sitting. 

Everyone looks over at Justin in amazement. Nobody expected him to say anything - he really isn’t much for talking in crowds in general and most of the people here hadn’t heard him say more than a dozen words total so far. And even I, who had heard him talk a blue streak when he was angry or at work, didn’t expect him to pipe up on this topic.

“Well, actually, I didn’t really get caught giving a blow job, since my father and Charles Hobbs walked in on us before I really got started. But that’s what I was planning on doing, if I’d had the chance. All I had time for was getting Chris’ pants down and rubbing him a bit to get him hard. I didn’t really know what I was doing at the time, since it was my first blow job, so I probably could have moved faster and got to the real business before we got caught, but . . .” Justin continues with his story.

“What happened then, Sweetie?” Em asks in a hushed, almost awed tone.

Justin snorts and shakes his head with a sad little smile on his face. “Chris caved to save his own ass. He claimed that I had come on to him and coerced him into going into the restroom with him. The liar - he was the one who talked me into it, telling me that his dad was giving my father a tour of the loading docks and storerooms and they’d be busy for hours so we’d have plenty of time. It didn’t matter though, my father would have blamed me for it anyway. Then my father pulled me out of the store, took me to the back parking lot, handed me one hundred dollars and told me to leave and never come back again. He said if I came back to the house or to any of his stores ever again he’d have me arrested for trespassing. So I left.”

Nobody says anything after that for a long time. What was there to say? Finally, Deb, comes over to Justin, puts her arms around him and gives him a smooch on the top of his head.

“When was that, Honey?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Two or three years ago, maybe.” Justin replies, his eyes locked on mine as he speaks, as if I’m his anchor to the present. “It was in the fall. I had just turned seventeen that spring. It seems like a long time ago.”

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I don’t know why I tell everyone about when my father finally kicked me out of the house. It’s just that they were all telling stories about how they came out and It seemed like a good time to tell my story too. I guess I shocked them all because no one’s saying anything now. I feel bad about ruining the mood like that.

But, oddly enough I don’t feel bad about telling my story. It felt good to tell someone finally. These people have all had similar experiences, or at least it sounded like it from their stories. I felt like it was safe to tell them my story.

What feels really good is when Brian stands up, comes over to where I’m sitting, moves Debbie aside and pulls me up to him. He wraps those strong, firm arms around me and holds me tight. Then, in front of all these people - his friends and family - he kisses me. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to because I know that he’s telling me more by his actions than he ever could with words. That feels really good.

And then Lindsey and Mel come in the front door and everyone starts talking again and my little moment of drama is forgotten.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

No matter how much I love spending time with my son, I’m glad when Mel and Lindsey take Gus home with them after dinner tonight. I think that Justin and I have some major issues to talk about tonight and having a four year old around will not facilitate those discussions. Strangely enough, though, I get the feeling that having Gus around this weekend helped Justin somehow. All I know is that after he woke up from that dream and saw Gus there trying to take care of him, something in Justin’s manner changed and maybe we have Gus to thank for that.

Debbie loads us up with enough leftover lasagne and cannoli to last the two of us for at least a month and we head to the door. Justin has been quite gregarious and talkative all night and it turned out he was the hit of the party. We get a whole chorus of ‘good nights’ and ‘call me’s and even a ‘see you for lunch on Tuesday, Sweetie’ as we leave. Justin is making friends. I’m elated but also totally confused by his 180 degree change in attitude.

After we get home and get all the leftovers stowed away in the freezer, I steer Justin to the couch with a beer in hand, and prepare to deal with all the fallout from the dream earlier and the disclosure of his outing at dinner. That was a huge deal - telling this group of virtual strangers about how his father threw him out of the house after he was caught with another man. I’m expecting a kid who’s about to fall apart, who’s teary eyed and sad and who needs comforting.

What I get is something altogether different and unexpected.

I get a happy, contented Justin who says to me, “dinner with your family was fun. Thanks for talking me into going. I was a little nervous about having them all together like that, but it wasn’t that bad. And, I really like Uncle Vic. He and I were having a fun conversation about what it was like when he first came out back in the sixties. God, that must have sucked.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Sunshine?” I ask the pod person sitting next to me.

“Huh?” is all Justin says, looking at me like I’m the one that’s gone crazy.

“Justin, you’re freaking me out here. I thought you’d be all upset after telling everyone at dinner how your father kicked you out and everything. Why aren’t you upset?”

“I don’t know. Actually, it felt good to tell about it. And, your family were all so nice to me afterwards. I don’t feel bad at all, though, Brian. I’m okay. Really.” Justin tries to reassure me.

“Okay. Then, what about that dream you had earlier. It was a bad one. Do you remember anything about that? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sorry. I don’t remember it,” Justin explains. “That’s the one dream that I never remember. I think it’s something about my mother, because I kinda remember seeing her face - she’s crying in the dream - but that’s all I ever remember about that one. I only know that I always get a horrible migraine afterwards. But, I can’t really talk about it because I don’t really remember any more.”

“Okay, so then, tell me about this big attitude change. You seem different tonight. If it wasn’t the dream, then what happened to change your mood so radically?” I ask, getting to my real point.

“It’s nothing, really,” Justin tries to deflect my concern about this topic, but I’m not going to let him off the hook so easily and I shake my head to make him stop. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but it’s really nothing. I just realized that I didn’t deserve to have such a shitty father.”

“I don’t get it. Why would that change things so much?” I have to ask.

“I was watching you and Gus both trying to take care of me when I woke up from that dream. You are so great with him. And you can see how Gus has learned to be just as caring as you are - he was sort of copying you, holding my hand and patting my shoulder and telling me it was going to be okay - just the same way you do. And, it just seemed to click in my brain that this is how it’s supposed to be for a father and son. It’s supposed to be safe and kind and caring, with the kid learning how to be a good person from watching his father.” 

“And, then I realized that I didn’t get that from my father. I got yelling and him insulting me and telling me I would never amount to anything and that I was a failure. And that’s what I got on his good days. On the bad days I didn’t even get that. And, well, it made me angry. I should have had a father that was caring and taught me how to be a good person but I didn’t.”

“So, it turns out my father was the one who failed, not me. He was the one who was a worthless loser, not me. I deserved better but I didn’t get it because he was a complete failure as a parent,” Justin smiles up at me, and I’m confounded at the transformation I see in him. “Once I realized that I wasn’t the one who was a loser and a washout and a failure, I just felt . . . better.”

“But, you’re not a failure, Sunshine. I’ve been trying to tell you that for days,” I tell him.

“I know. But, I didn’t see it until today. Before, it was just words you were saying. Now, I get it.”

Justin has this enchanting little smug smile on his lips as he says these last words. It’s too enticing. I have to lean in and kiss that goofy happy little smile and taste that new self-awareness he radiates. He kisses back rather too enthusiastically and we lose about a half hour of time before I carefully pick him up out of my lap and extricate myself from the dangerous position I had been occupying.

“We don’t really have to wait till tomorrow, Brian,” Justin tempts me. “It’s already after ten. What’s a couple hours?”

“You might be all energized and excited by your big revelation, Justin, but I’m exhausted. I’ve had a whole weekend of go-go-go Gus and traumatized Twink and I’m about to pass out I’m so tired,” I tell him. “I’m far too tired to do this the right way, Sunshine. Plus, I have plans for tomorrow night, sooooo, you’re just going to have to wait.”

“I’m not good at waiting, Brian,” Justin teases me. “And, it’s not like I haven’t done this before, you know, so ‘doing it right’ isn’t really that big a deal for me. Let’s just do it ‘however’ and do it ‘right now’.”

“Sorry, Sunshine. If you want Brian Kinney, you’re going to have to wait,” I say, removing his wandering hands from my waist - well, really from my ass, since they really were wandering rather rampantly by that point - and kissing him chastely on the forehead before heading towards my lonely shower.

Hopefully, it would be one of my last lonely showers, I thought to myself with a huge grin on my face while visions of my plans for tomorrow spun through my head and I once again jerked off in the shower alone.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

It’s Monday morning. I’m so excited and scared that I woke up at about four am. I’ve been lying here ever since waiting for Brian to wake up. I’m not sure if I’m happy about this day or not. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this day for weeks or months, not just mere days. Today is the day that I get to find out exactly what it is about Brian Kinney that makes all those men at the bars and the Diner and even on the streets want him so badly.

Well, that’s not exactly true - I already know why they want him, probably better than they do. It’s because not only is he absolutely gorgeous on the outside, but he’s a truly good man and it shows through even when he’s not aware of it. Most people probably just see it as him being attractive - they can call it ‘sexy’ or ‘hot’ but its much more than that. I’m convinced that he wouldn’t come off half as physically attractive if he wasn’t so beautiful inside as well. 

And, there’s also the fact that he simply radiates sex pretty much all the time.

My excitement about finally getting to experience that part of Brian’s life is tempered though by the realization that today is the last day of our week. I don’t know what’s going to happen after today. I’ve been getting a bit complacent, I now realize, about this whole arrangement. It was really nice to actually know where I was going to sleep at night and that I was definitely going to get to eat. I find that I really like the whole consistency thing. Not knowing what’s going to happen after today is eating away at me. It’s turning my happy excited into a more nervous excited.

Anyway, I’ll find out soon enough what will become of me, so I just need to stop worrying and get on with it. And, Brian’s alarm is set to go off in about ten minutes so I figure I’ve waited patiently long enough. Time to get started on the good part of the day, I think. I decide to dive right into the good - I squirm my way under the covers and find my way down to the part of Brian’s anatomy that I’ve been thinking about for the past three hours.

One thing I’ve learned over the past week is that He always wakes up hard. And not just normal, morning wood hard, but really, really hard. Perfect for what I’ve got planned. And, although he’s been wearing his briefs to bed this week to cut back on the temptation, he's so deliciously hard that his dick is already peeking out the top of those briefs providing me with easy access.

My plan is to go slowly enough at first that I don't wake him up right away. That's going to be hard though because I'm really excited. I take a deep breath to steady myself, which is totally counterproductive since that causes me to inhale his sleepy warm male scent which just inflates the excitement level even higher.

Fuck going slow, then. Instead, I pull his briefs down below his balls, grab his cock with one hand and his balls with the other and suck him into my mouth in one fast steady pull. I hold him there, using my tongue to play with him a little and enjoying the feel of his blood pulsating just under that silky smooth skin. Then I suck him in even deeper til I feel his curly pubes tickling at my nose. I can tell he's fully awake now by the gasps I hear penetrating through the blankets.

Time to get serious. I pull back and then drive down again and again, easily setting up a good steady rhythm. I'm licking and sucking and bobbing up and down. He's moaning and his hands are locked in my hair as he guides my head. He's been such a good boy this week - keeping his promise hasn't been easy and it's left him oh so very, very horny. I'm afraid all my hard won skills in the fellatio department would be wasted this morning - he's not going to last more that a few more minutes. So instead of concentrating on skill, I just go for speed and ramp up my pace even more.

His hips stop their gentle rocking motion and his breath catches as he reaches his climax just at the same instant the bedside alarm clock goes off. Spurts of his salty hot cum hit the back of my throat at the same time the *Waa-Waa-Waa* of the alarm hits my ears. I lick up the rest of my morning treat, burrow out from under the pile of blankets and greet a smiling Brian who is still breathing hard and hasn't yet let go of my hair.

"Good morning. It's Monday!" I say as I reach over to shut off the alarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday! The big moment is almost here. I'm so afraid that after all the build up I've made that I won't be able to pull it off. (Pun definitely intended.) Did anyone like the obligatory cameo appearance of Chris Hobbs? Do I hear a Boo or Hiss in the audience. Come on - we love to hate him and since there's no 'bashing' in my story, I had to have him here doing something nefarious. TAG.


	24. Restoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very important chapter here. Justin is getting so much closer to a stable life. Brian still has a lot to do though to get Justin to where he can be a confident, whole person again. He's trying to restore a life to Justin, little piece by little piece. It may even work. Hope you enjoy! TAG
> 
> *** Chapter dedicated to my Banner Goddess, Marny *** If you want to check out the wonderful banners Marny has made for not only this story but for all my other stories, check them out on the Midnight Whispers website: http://midnightwhispers.ca/viewuser.php?uid=1168.

Chapter 24 - Restoration.

Restoration: The process of repairing something so as to return it to its original condition.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

It was a bit of a struggle getting Justin out of the loft this morning - the randy little twink - but I eventually convinced him that he needed to wait till tonight if he wanted my full attention. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy my wake up call this morning. I could probably get used to that in lieu of my regular alarm clock pretty easily. But, I've got a lot planned for today so he's going to have to wait just a little longer.

The first thing on the agenda is a meeting with the Daddies' Board Shop team to get our newly signed client's campaign into production. Justin gets a big round of applause from the rest of the team for handling his first big account so smoothly. It's great to watch him flush with pride at the kudos he gets from the others. But, the client was adamant about some fairly tight production deadlines, which means I can't sit on my laurels with this one. We need to get right on this first thing. So, the first three hours of my day are swamped, but we get the project well on its way and then I let myself relax enough to breathe.

Ted is my next appointment. He'd pulled me aside briefly last night to tell me he'd made some big progress on another project I'd given him early last week. I'd told him to come see me as soon as we got Daddies' on its way.

"Show me what you've got, Theodore," I begin.

"Well, I got a good start on all the paperwork to get replacement ID for Justin, but it's going to take some time. I had no idea it was such a hassle for someone who'd lost all their ID to get it replaced. That was a good idea to check with his old school, though. I was able to get his social security number from them - by the way, their security system is for shit and I was amazed at how easy it was to get records from them, which is good for us but, generally speaking its a travesty.

Anyway, they supplied me with copies of some records we can use as backup documentation to get him a reissued birth certificate and then we can use that to get started getting everything else - a social security card, state ID or drivers license, eventually even a passport. I also spoke with Mitchell at our bank about the special circumstances and he confirmed that, as long as he has a verifiable social security number, the bank will waive their other requirements for opening a new checking account for him.

"Fabulous. Great job, Theodore. Remind me next time I try to fire you how much more than a mere accountant you've become," I tease, but with real approval underlying the joking.

"Thanks, Bri. As to the other stuff you wanted me to find out for you, well, like I said, we're lucky that fancy private school was pretty lax about privacy issues. The school secretary was so ridiculously talkative I could have probably got her to give me her social security number. She gave me all the old contact info for Justin's residence and his father's business. I verified both addresses with the county tax assessor's office and personally confirmed the phone numbers. Everything's all still good," Ted says and hands me the page long printout with Craig Taylor's contact information. "The cell phone number the school had for his mother wasn't good anymore, though."

"Excellent. I'm thinking of paying Craig Taylor a little visit in the not too distant future and this will definitely make things easier for me," I respond as I look over the info Ted's prepared for me.

"If you need any backup, Em and I would love to join you on that little outing. While I'm not generally the vindictive type, after seeing what that shit has done to Justin, I'd love to give Taylor a huge fucking piece of my mind. And, Emmett told me he wants a piece of the guy too. In fact, if you'd like, I could probably put together a respectable lynch mob for this creep."

"We'll see. I haven't finalized my plans yet, but I may just take you up on that offer. Now, what about the girl?"

"Piece of cake. Lynn, that's the school secretary, knew exactly who I was talking about. Her name is Daphne Chanders. She was the class valedictorian as a matter of fact, which meant that Lynn knew practically everything about her including the fact that she's still here in town. She's a student at Carnegie Mellon. They're much stricter about giving out any personal information on their students, but I was able to verify that she's a current student there and I got her campus email address. Here. Sorry, but that's the only contact info I could get for her. Think that will be enough?" Ted asks.

"It's more than we had before. Thanks, Ted. Really. This is going to make a huge difference, I hope."

"No problem. I like Justin. I hope it helps," Ted adds as he gathers his papers together, like the good accountant he is,!and heads back to his office.

Now to put all my information to work! First, I send off a quick email to Carnegie Mellon. Then, I call the bank and set up an appointment for 1:30. And finally, I pull out the crumpled Missing Person flyer and make another, very important call.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Okay, I have a shitload of stuff I have to do for this new account. By the time I'm through with all the different meetings this morning, I have a ToDo list almost a full page long. I LOVE it.

I've never had a real job before, let alone one where I get to draw and paint and work with amazing graphics programs on the computer. I not only love the actual work, though, I also like the feeling of having a plan, a list, of things I have to work on. It's like having a future - one that's tangible, that you can see and hold in your hand. It's hard to explain, but having a ToDo list, for me, is like having a written guarantee of my value. I know I matter because I have all these things that I am responsible for seeing to. Me - no one else - just me.

I know, it's pretty stupid. But, I'm starting to really enjoy this 'work' thing. I hope that Brian wasn't joking about me keeping the job after today. I think I want to keep this job. I'm kinda looking forward to some of the stuff on my list - some of these could be sorta fun. If I do really well at this, hopefully Brian won't regret giving me a chance and he'll let me stay. I really hope so.

I'm still working on item #1 on my list when Brian comes in and asks me to join him for lunch. He takes me to this little French bakery and I tell him what I want from the menu before our waitress comes. I'm getting so good at the restaurant thing. I think that Brian's just a little proud at how well I'm doing too because that smile he gives me is huge.

When we're almost done with lunch - I'm just finishing a tarte au creme freshe which Brian said I would love for dessert - he pulls a folded paper out of his jacket pocket and sets it down in front of me. It's the paycheck from last Friday. No matter how much better I'm feeling today, or the fact that I've decided I want to keep the job, the paycheck still freaks me out a little. It's just so much money. Plus it's a check and I don't know what to do with a check.

"Ready to deal with this, Sunshine?" Brian asks.

I revert back to my stupid, nonverbal self and just shrug and sigh.

"I had Ted call the bank. You can use this to open up a checking account at the bank. They understand that you have some rather special circumstances and the only ID they will need to see is your old school picture ID. You still have that right?"

I nod. I can't believe he's serious, though. The concept of me having a bank account of my own is mind blowing. Fuck - a job and a bank account. Me?

"What do you think, Justin? I'll go with you. You can deposit the paycheck and take out just enough cash so that you have some spending money on you. You don't have to carry around lots of money. The account will be in your name only so no one can touch your money other than you. It's a lot safer than hiding your money in your shoes, Sunshine," Brian teases.

I close my eyes so I can think. I can't look at Brian. I can't look at that fucking check. But with my eyes closed I can actually think. And, when I can think about it like that, well . . . It doesn't seem so bad.

"Okay," I tell him and then open my eyes and smile at him. "Okay, let's do it."

"Let's!" Brian says, grabbing me by the hand and taking me and my very first paycheck out the door on our way to a fucking bank.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Finally, the paycheck is in the bank and Justin is the very proud owner of a brand new checking account. It all went relatively smoothly, too, thanks to Ted's assistance. So, that's one more hurdle Justin and I have passed successfully. Maybe I don't suck at this therapy thing after all.

Now, I just have one more difficult task to get through today. Then I can concentrate on the more pleasurable pursuits I have planned for tonight. This one might not go as smoothly, though.

I drop Justin off back at work - he's still clutching the checkbook full of temporary checks like its made of solid gold and it's so fucking adorable. But, there's no time for any of that overly sentimental lesbionic crap. I'm already running late for my next appointment.

Luckily I set this meeting up at the Liberty Diner and told Deb to keep an eye on my guest. I had suspected I might I get delayed at the bank. Plus, this tactic has the added benefit of giving my spy some time to scope out the target just in case I need either back up or a second opinion later.

As soon as I walk in, Deb gives me a nod to the back booth. The middle aged, well dressed woman sitting there has her back to the door so she doesn't see me come in, not that she'd know me if she did see me. But it does give me a couple of seconds to study her without her knowledge. And, the little I see doesn't seem too bad, but we'll see. I look over at Deb before I proceed, but she just shrugs noncommittally. So much for my spy.

"Mrs. Taylor?" I say as I reach the booth, offering my hand in greeting. "I'm Brian Kinney. Thank you for meeting with me."

"Thank you, Mr. Kinney, for calling," she says, shaking my hand and half rising from the seat before I wave her back. "You're the first lead I've had about my son, so I'm more than happy to meet with you anywhere that's convenient for you. Please, tell me what you know about Justin. Is he okay? How do I find him?"

"Justin is fine, Mrs. Taylor. But, as I told you on the phone, I'm a friend of your son's, and before I tell you anything more, I'm interested in hearing why you're trying to find him after all this time. It seems a little odd, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose it might to someone who didn't know what our family was like," she starts off, but then hesitates before telling me anything further. "But, first, Mr. Kinney, how do I know you're telling the truth about even knowing my son? I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather not be giving out a lot of very personal information to a complete stranger until I have some reason to believe it's likely to get me closer to my son."

I take out my phone and open the camera app, then bring up the set of pictures I took the other day at the zoo. There's a great one of Justin holding up Gus in front of the polar bear exhibit so they can compare their joint height to a cut out display showing how tall an average polar bear is when it stands on its hind legs - even the two of them combined are shorter than the bear cut out behind them. But it's an excellent image of Justin and shows both boys happy and smiling. I hand the phone to her so she can see the picture more closely.

"Oh, Justin," Jennifer says as she lays her hand on her chest and her face crumples, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "God, he looks good. I've been so worried. I thought . . . Well, I suspected maybe that he might be . . . I didn't even know if Justin was alive until now. Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am just seeing this photo. Thank you."

She hasn't returned my phone yet. She's still staring at the picture of her long lost son. She looks genuinely pleased and relieved to see that Justin is alive and seemingly well. I glance over at Deb who's hovering close by. Debbie nods at me, indicating that she thinks I should continue.

"Do you mind my asking, when was this taken?" Jennifer finally looks away from the picture.

"Saturday. I had my son, Gus, for the weekend and we took him to the zoo," I offer.

"Justin never got to go to the zoo as a child," she reminisces. "My husband wouldn't let him go with his class. Justin was so upset about missing that trip. He'd been looking forward to it for weeks. And he was so embarrassed that he was the only child that wasn't given permission. He even had to spend the whole day in the front office with the school secretary while his class was gone."

"He told me about that and that he'd never been to the zoo before the other day." She looked and sounded sincere to me, but, I still wanted that explanation. "So, tell me, Mrs. Taylor, why didn't you try to find him before this."

"I know this sounds ridiculous, but I didn't know he was missing until about six moths ago," my disbelieving look stops her briefly, but she continues on with her explanation. "You see, my husband was a very controlling man. He took Justin with him one day when he left for work and when he came home, he said that Justin had done something 'unspeakable' - his term, not mine - and that Craig had decided then and there to send our son off to live with Craig's brother in Philadelphia. He said it was to get Justin away from the bad influences he'd met with here."

I tried to protest and later to contact Justin, but my husband stopped me. I won't go into the things he did to me, Mr. Kinney - suffice it to say that Craig Taylor could be very . . . coercive when he wanted to be.

"But, I truly thought that Justin was with his Aunt and Uncle. If I'd known what Craig really did, I would have left him right then and gone after Justin immediately. I had no idea that that bastard had basically thrown Justin out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on his back. I mean, who would do that to their own child? I always thought that Craig was harsh with Justin, but he said everything he did was done out of love - to teach Justin a lesson or to protect him. Yes, I was naive and completed cowed by Craig, but I had no idea he could do anything so heartless."

"It wasn't until I got a call from Bill about six months ago that I found out the truth. Craig wasn't home when Bill called - he'd told me he was going away on a business trip to check out some new venders, which was also a lie. So I thought, great, finally an opportunity to talk to Justin when his dad wasn't around to stop us. But when I asked Bill how Justin was and if I could talk to him, Bill had no idea what I was talking about. He told me Justin had never been there."

"After I finally tracked Craig down at his mistress' house, I confronted him and he finally told me the truth about what happened. Well, at least he told me that he'd thrown Justin out on the streets - I have no idea if the rest of what he told me was the truth or not because I've found out since then that virtually everything he ever said to me was a lie."

"At first I tried to find Justin on my own. I contacted his old school friends and other relatives, but it seemed he'd just disappeared. I finally filed the police report when I realized I wasn't getting anywhere on my own."

"That's why I didn't start looking for Justin until recently. I admit that I was stupid and gullible and weak. I also admit that I'm almost as much to blame as Craig for everything that happened to Justin because I might have stopped it all and I didn't. But I want to try to make it up to him now. So, please Mr. Kinney, you have to tell me where my son is."

Debbie, who wasn't even pretending not to eavesdrop anymore, was standing right behind Jennifer when she finish talking. I waved Deb over to my side and pulled her down so she was sitting next to me. This woman was the closest thing I had to a mother and fuck knew I needed some motherly advice right now.

"What do you say, Deb?" I ask.

Debbie scrutinized Jennifer Taylor for a good five minutes while we both waited for the final verdict. Finally, Debbie looks to me and answers. "Well, she seems legit to me, but I'm not really the one who matters here. I say you tell Sunshine what she said and let him make up his own fucking mind."

"Thanks, Mom," I say and give Deb a quick kiss on her cheek before shooing her back out of the booth. "But, I have one more question first, Mrs. Taylor. How does Craig figure into this?"

"He doesn't," she responds instantly. "I filed for divorce from the bastard two weeks after I got the call from Bill. I haven't talked to Craig since the divorce was finalized and I hope I never have to see him ever again."

"Good enough. I'll let Justin know what you said. It's up to him if he wants to call you," I state as I get up and leave without another word, my anger and pity for this weak woman choking all the possible words out of me.


	25. Percipience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the big night? Brian is. He's got a ridiculously romantic DATE planned. Yes, I said it - realizing that it's OOC and everything - Brian's taking Justin on a DATE. But, if Brian were going to take Justin on a date, I just know he'd go totally overboard and do it magnificently, right? Well, here's my version of what Brian MIGHT do if he were so inclined. Hope you enjoy. TAG
> 
> **** Warning - Ridiculously Romantic Drivel complete with possible sentimentalism and maybe even true emotion. Read at your own risk!! ****

Chapter 25 - Percipience.

Percipience: The knowledge gained from the process of coming to know or understand something or someone.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Jennifer Taylor. Do I believe her? And even if I do, is it really any excuse? How could she not see all the damage Craig's version of 'love' was doing to her son? Why should her recent change of heart make any difference at all?

Then again, at least she has apparently had a change of heart. St. Joan did the same thing - ignoring everything Jack did to me for all those years - and still, to this day, refuses to admit that she did anything wrong. Joan didn't even have the lie that Jack beat me 'out of love' to hide behind. She knew that her husband was a vicious, mean, sadistic drunk who beat her kids for no other reason than he could and Joan still did nothing.

So, does the fact that Jennifer hid behind the convenient lie her husband gave to the world, excuse the fact hat she ignored the abuse of her son? I guess that decision really isn't mine to make. It's up to Justin. I'm not sure I can ever forgive her. But I'll let Justin make up his own mind.

But, I don't have the leisure to sit and worry about Jennifer Taylor right now. I have a few more last minute errands to run before tonight and I'm running short of time. I call Emmett as I walk to my car and confirm that he's finished his assignment - he tells me he'll be dropping the package for Justin off at my office within the hour. Good. That gives me just enough time to make one quick trip to finalize everything and then, I can head back to the loft to get ready for my date.

Yes, I'm taking Justin on a DATE. I have to remind myself not to panic at the mere thought of the word. I tell myself it's not that big of a deal. Even though the only official date I've ever been on was a total disaster which ended in my fucking the waiter in the men's room and my date leaving in the middle of the meal, it doesn't mean I'll fuck up this time, too. Millions of fags do this dating thing on a regular basis and most of them survive just fine. I'm sure that if I really put my mind to this, I'll do fabulous, just like I do with everything else. Plus, despite my relative lack of experience in the dating arena, I'm reasonably sure that Justin has even less experience - I refuse to count any of his customers from his time as a street hustler as a date.

By five thirty, everything is ready - or at least as ready as I can make it. I arrive back at Kinnetik just as Cynthia is heading out for the day. I tell her not to expect Justin or me in the office before noon tomorrow and she gives me one of her knowing smirks then tells me Em's package is on my desk before she heads out the door.

Alright. Here goes nothing. I buzz Justin on the intercom and ask him to come up to my office. Then I sit back in my big leather desk chair and wait.

"Brian?" he taps tentatively on my door as he comes in. "You needed something?"

"Yes. I need you, Sunshine," I say, smiling at the smear of blue paint on his cheek and his paint spattered clothing. "What have you guys down in the art department been doing? Celebrating Divali? What's with all the paint everywhere?"

"I was working on your new VooDoo Donuts campaign with Jessica. We have a great idea . . . " he's about to start into a description of their new artistic endeavor, but I effectively shut him up simply by kissing him, leaving him quiet but smiling.

"Here," I hand him the package Em brought earlier. "Now, no discussion. It's just clothing, Sunshine. No big deal, but the restaurant we're going to doesn't include paint splattered cargo pants on its dress code. So, just go change and we'll get going."

He looks at me sheepishly but doesn't complain. He takes the package and heads to my bathroom to change. He comes back out after fifteen minutes looking completely transformed. Gone is the casually dressed paint covered twink. Now I'm looking at a handsome, stylishly dressed young man ready for a night on the town.

Fuck, he's so beautiful. I'm amazed at the chage from that sad, sick, grey-tinged waif I first saw a little more than a week ago in a hospital bed to this. He now looks healthy and his skin has a rosy glow to it that wasn't there before. His eyes have regained a brilliant sparkle. His long hair is clean and brushed back out of his face. And, Emmett did wonderfully with the clothes - Justin's wearing a pair of soft grey dress slacks topped with a white button down shirt and a pale blue cashmere sweater - it looks perfect on him. I can't wait to tear it all off him later.

"Do I look okay?" Justin asks with concern, still not confident in his own beauty.

"You look perfect," I tell him truthfully, unable to stop myself from cupping his chin and bringing his mouth up to meet mine for a long, slow, devouring kiss that even takes my breath away.

I eventually manage to pull away from him. He's one big smile from ear to ear. I remind myself again that I've lasted all week and another couple of hours isn't going to kill me. Throwing him down on the desk right now and pounding into him till he was reduced to a happy pulp would certainly put the kibosh on all my carefully made and ridiculously romantic plans. So I reassert my flagging self control, tuck his hand into the crook of my elbow in true gentlemanly fashion and lead him out to the car.

"The Fairmont?" Justin asks ten minutes later as we drive up to the front door of the hotel and five star restaurant situated just a few blocks from Liberty Avenue.

"Yep. Pittsburgh's finest luxury accommodations - or at least that's what their brochure says," I jokingly respond.

"Wow. I've never been inside. I used to walk by though, sometimes. It looks gorgeous."

"It is. So, come on inside and see for yourself," I answer, getting out of the Vette and handing the keys along with a healthy tip to the valet.

I maneuver Justin through the well appointed lobby filled with artwork that I know he'd love to stay and admire. However, we have dinner reservations at the hotel restaurant so I don't give him much of a chance to dally. The hostess is already waiting for us at the entry podium.

"Mr. Kinney. Your table is ready. Right this way," she says without delay, earning her and the restaurant even more of my respect.

Justin seems overwhelmed but I had expected that. One of my errands earlier had been to stop at the restaurant and preorder our entire meal - thus no embarrassment on his part with menus or ordering. Brilliant, right? And there's the added advantage of not having our meal interrupted by potentially distracting waiters asking what I'd like to have tonight.

The hostess seats us at an intimate booth in the back where there's already a bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket. I don't even have to ask before a sommelier steps up and pours two glasses for us. The service here is fantastic.

I raise my glass for a toast and Justin does the same looking both excited and nervous at the same time. "To the successful completion of the first week of the Kinney-Taylor Treatment Plan," I offer as we clink glasses, laugh a little and then sip.

There's an awkward moment that follows where we both look into our glasses, not knowing what to say. But before it gets too weird, Justin clears his throat and asks softly, "Brian, um, what am I supposed to do now?"

"I have no fucking idea, Sunshine," I answer, laughing loudly with relief. "This is only my second date ever, so I have no fucking idea what to do next either."

And after that it's easy. He asks about my first date and we both end up laughing so hard at the description of my date's face when he walks in on me and the waiter that I think I almost piss myself. And to my utter surprise, the conversation just flows from there effortlessly. If I'd known dating was this easy, I might have done it more often. Then again, probably not, since, until Justin fell into my life I really didn't see the need.

After the fifth course - a slice of triple chocolate torte for Justin and a double espresso for me - I sign the room charge slip and lead Justin on to part two of my plan.

The Fairmont's bar is known to turn into a busy singles pick up spot during happy hour or on the weekends. Of course it's mostly heteros, but the hotel is so close to Liberty Avenue that it's relatively gay friendly. There's even a small dance floor and occasionally they have live jazz or some lounge lizard piano singer. But, on Monday nights, they just put a dance mix CD on the stereo and the place is practically dead - which suits me just fine. I already talked to the manager and substituted my own music for their loser stuff. So now Justin and I have the dance floor all to ourselves.

When we enter, there's an old Drifters tune playing - I'd forgotten this was even on the CD - which happens to be a guilty favorite of mine.

"Care to dance, Mr. Taylor," I ask, holing out my hand and half bowing to my prospective partner.

"I'd love to, Mr. Kinney," Justin says and takes my hand with a mock curtsy, causing us both to chuckle.

We drift around the dance floor together to the sounds of this goofy old song and I realize that I'm incredibly happy. This is fun. For once, I'm not out here to prove a point or make a conquest or keep up any image. Nobody here knows me or cares what the fuck my reputation is back on Liberty Avenue. That gives me a sense of freedom I've never had before.

So I let myself go. We dance and laugh and act silly and romantic and I really couldn't give a crap. I twirl Justin around and dip him like in one of those classic movies I watch all the time. The kid isn't a half bad dancer, either. Probably from all those church socials his parents forced him to attend.

As the music fades, I give in to my secret romantic side, and pull Justin to me for a long, hot kiss. I think the music's already halfway through the next song before we notice it's even changed. I had planned to spend a lot longer here, drinking, dancing and generally getting both Justin and I in the mood. But, I don't think that's going to be necessary. I'm definitely in the mood already, and my leaking cock obviously doesn't think more dancing is needed. Looking at Justin's flushed complexion and sparkling eyes, I don't think he'll mind much if we move on, either.

Fuck, I'm really pretty good at this date thing after all.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

This is the best night of my entire fucking life. I've never had this much fun before or felt this unbelievably special. I can't believe Brian's done all this for me. ME! Dinner, dancing, an actual real DATE. And he looks so happy, too. He's laughing and joking and teasing me. We're goofing around like a couple of teenagers in love. It's insane - this can't really be the same Brian Kinney I've heard his friends talking about? But, whoever this is, I simply love it!

When he kisses me right there on the dance floor at the end of that corny old song, I think I'm going to melt into a happy puddle right there at his feet. But, apparently, there's more still to come in this date. Normally I'm not big on surprises, you know, because not too many of the surprises in my life have been happy ones, but so far I don't hate being surprised by Brian. So, when we leave the bar and, instead of heading to the front where the valet parking stand is located, Brian leads me towards the elevators up to the guest rooms, I'm not really worried at all. I'm just going to let Brian be in charge and let him take care of me tonight.

Brian pulls a key card out of his jacket pocket once we're in the elevator, swipes it across a security pad on the elevator control panel and then pushes the button for the top floor. I'm not going to say anything. I feel like this might be one of those fairy tales where if you speak it all disappears. So I'm just going to wait and see what other wonders this night will produce and not jinx it by talking.

The elevator opens up onto a small foyer with only one set of ornately carved double doors. There's an elegant plaque next to the doorway that reads, 'The Presidential Suite'. Brian's key card works on this door too. He goes ahead of me, swing both doors wide open and then stands aside to let me enter.

Oh-My-Fucking-God! It's a beautiful suite with, I don't yet know how many rooms, all decorated in a modern minimalist style that perfectly matches Brian's personality. The main entryway and living area alone look like they're almost as big as Brian's entire loft. There's a formal dining area off to one side and a smaller, more comfortable media room and office area on the other side. There are open doorways on both sides leading to what appear to be bedrooms. I feel like a little kid scurrying down the hallways to discover all the hidden rooms. I find two regular bedrooms, a small kitchenette and laundry facility and an amazing, huge master bedroom with a giant hot tub/jacuzzi bath a walk-in closet and a bathroom I could personally live in happily for years.

Brian follows behind me at a more sedate pace. I think he's getting a kick out of watching me go nuts. Once I've opened all the doors and feel like I've found everything there is to discover, I run back to Brian and stand on my toes so I can reach up and kiss him - it's the only way I can think of to express all my excitement right now.

"You like?" Brian asks.

"Yes. I love it! But, Brian, you know you didn't have to do all this. I would be happy to just get you even without all this," I tell him honestly.

"So? You get both. You don't mind, do you?" he asks, his lips curling in the way they do when he's trying to hide his own enjoyment.

"Not at all. But I just want you to know that you are all I really want." it's important for me to make him understand that.

"Justin, how do I prove to you that you deserve ALL of this and more? You should have already had a lifetime of moments like this. I want to give you at least a taste of what you deserve. I want to give you more, actually, but you have to agree to let me," Brian says, his eyes radiating his sincerity and maybe . . . something more. "Will you let me do this for you, Justin? Let me give you at least one night of having everything you deserve."

But I don't have to answer right away because, right after he says this, my lips and tongue become very busy playing with his lips and tongue. And, after that I almost forget the question. But, Brian reminds me again, as his lips move up the side of my neck, by whispering against my skin in between kisses, "will you, Justin? Let me do this?"

"Yes." I breathe the word out joyfully.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Now that it's finally time to do this, I might feel just the slightest bit nervous. Which is fucking stupid, right? I've fucked hundreds, if not thousands of guys. This should be pretty much routine by now. Except it's not. With all those other guys I never really gave a fuck about whether not they were enjoying themselves. As long as I got off, well, that was really all that mattered. If they had a good time too that was merely a nice little bonus for them.

Tonight was different. I actually cared about this man. I wanted him to enjoy himself. And I wanted to be the man that brought him that pleasure. But I knew Justin's history - or at least part of it - and I suspected that doing this the right way for him, wasn't going to be all that easy.

I was already so hard just from holding him and kissing him that it felt like a steel rod was poking up through my pants. But I could feel from Justin's body that that wasn't the case for him. Fuck. I wanted to smash my fist into the groin of the man who had done this to him. Fucking Craig Taylor had a lot to answer for and I was planning on beating those answers out of him myself if I had to. But, that wasn't going to help me get anywhere right now.

So, as much as I just wanted to tear his fucking clothes off him and throw Justin onto the mattress right this instant, I wasn't going to do it. I was going to slow down, figure this out and do it right. My dick isn't very happy about this decision, but I seem to be getting a little better about not doing EVERYTHING my dick orders me to do.

"Come on, Sunshine," I say, untwining our bodies and pulling him after me to the other room.

I sit him down on the couch and then go to pour two more glasses of champagne from the fresh bottle that was cooling in the ice bucket on the bar. I bring the drinks back to the couch, giving Justin one as I settle into the corner of the overstuffed furniture. As soon as I'm seated, I pull Justin around so that he's sitting between my legs, his back leaning against my chest and my arms circling his slender body. It's the most natural, comfortable and comforting position I can imagine and I've noticed we often end up like this when we're talking about tough issues. Which, unfortunately, is what I plan to do now.

I let us both have a few moments of quiet while we sit and sip our champagne. In between sips I'm nibbling at his long slender neck and my hand has already found its way under his shirt tails to the warm skin on his belly. Then, since it's already down there already, I let my hand find its own natural segway down to the topic I want to deal with, as it slips past the waistband of his slacks and then under his briefs to the well endowed cock within.

I'm just lightly stroking at the tip of his cock with my index finger, but for most guys it would be more than enough to get a rise out of them. Not Justin though. I can tell he likes the sensation - his head falls back onto my shoulder, his eyes are closed and his lips slightly parted, and his breathing is getting faster and more ragged. But despite these signs that he enjoys what I'm doing, he's not getting hard at all.

"Justin. Tell me what happened. Please. I need to understand before we go any farther," I ask him.

His body stiffens slightly at my request. He knows exactly what I'm asking. I'm sure this isn't something he wants to talk about. I need to understand though. I'm just not sure I can go through with the rest of my plan for tonight if I don't get some explanation. But I try to wait patiently while he determines just what and how much he's comfortable disclosing.

"I'm not really sure why this happens, Brian," he eventually begins. "I've started remembering some things this past week - I know what I'm remembering is a part of it, but . . . I feel like there are still parts I don't remember or understand."

"Can you tell me what you do remember?"

"It's bad. I don't think you want to know."

I probably don't. But I think it might help you to talk about it, Sunshine. So tell me and I'll do what I can to help," I offer.

"My father caught me jacking off to this magazine. It might have happened more than once, but I remember this one time so clearly. He told me it was a sin, that I was a dirty pervert and going to hell. Then, to punish me he . . . " Justin hesitates, but when I tighten my arms around him and kiss his cheek he goes on. "He tied my hands behind my back with a leather belt so I couldn't touch myself and made me kneel, naked, on the hardwood floor, praying for forgivenes. He made me stay there for a long time - more than a day."

"He'd come by every so often and show me the magazine I'd been looking at - he said it was to test me and see if I'd learned my lesson. And every time I saw that fucking magazine, no matter how hard I tried not to, I'd get hard again. So, he'd rant and rave at me again and sometimes throw cold water on me or toss his gin and tonic in my face and then tell me he'd be back for another test later."

"I think I eventually passed out or something because I don't remember how it ended. But I never jerked off again after that."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"Fuck, Sunshine," is all Brian says when I finish telling him my story.

I can't see his face because he's sitting behind me. He's holding me really, really tightly, too - his legs wrapped around mine and both his arms squeezing around my arms and chest. I can feel his face hidden in my hair. His breath comes out choppy and uneven as if he's struggling to hold something back.

Shit. I shouldn't have said anything. I hope I haven't ruined things. The night was going so well, everything was perfect and then I opened my fat fucking face and now it's all going to turn to shit, isn't it?

The scalding angry tears start leaking out then. I don't want them but I can't stop them. And I can't even free my arms from Brian's embrace to wipe them away so they just drizzle down my cheeks unimpeded. I'm so angry right now, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"Don't cry, Justin. Don't give your fucking father the satisfaction of making you cry. He doesn't deserve it," Brian whispers to me.

"I'm not crying over what my father did. I'm crying because I've ruined this beautiful night," I try to explain. "Everything was so wonderful - the dinner, dancing, this beautiful room - and now I've ruined it all. You're never going to fuck me now - who would want to considering all my baggage. And now the week's over and I don't have anything again. I don't get to have you and I won't even have anything good to remember because I ruined it."

"You're so fucking stubborn, aren't you, Sunshine? You simply refuse to listen to anything I say," Brian says, his voice sounding annoyed rather than angry, though, as he lifts me up and turns me around to face him. "You haven't ruined anything, Justin. We're still here and the night isn't over. And it really doesn't matter that this week is over because we have next week and the week after that and hopefully a hundred more weeks after those. I'm not going anywhere, Justin."

"I keep wondering what it's going to take to get you to trust me," Brian continues, linking his hand to mine as he speaks. "How do I make you understand? I don't care that the week is up. I DON'T want you to leave. I wouldn't have done all this - the room, dinner, even a fucking date - if I was just going to fuck you and then kick you out in the morning."

"Look at me, Justin," Brian orders when I try to turn my head so as to avoid his intense hazel glare. "Now, listen to me, Justin. Are you listening? Tell me, are you listening?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm listening."

"I don't want you to leave. Not tomorrow and not ever. I want you to stay with me - live with me - at the loft, for as long as you want to stay. Do you understand that?"

No. Frankly, I don't understand this at all. "But, you won't even fuck me because I'm so broken and useless. Why would you want me to stay with you?"

"You're not broken. You're definitely not useless, Justin. And, I may not have fucked you yet, but you've already got more of me than any other man ever has. I've never felt so . . . comfortable, I guess is the word . . . with any other man. It makes me happy just to spend time with you, to talk, or just hang out. I even had fun on our fucking date tonight. I like being with you. That's why I want you to stay. And, I really can't believe I'm saying this, but it's doesn't seem to matter that we haven't fucked - I still want you to stay."

"So. Let's just enjoy the rest of our night and quit worrying about all this other shit," Brian concludes. "Why don't we try out that hot tub and finish off our champagne. Then we'll just see what happens, okay? No pressure - we have lots of time because you're NOT leaving anytime soon. Right?"

When I don't respond right away, Brian starts to look worried again. "Please, Justin. Say you're not leaving. You will stay?"

I have no idea how this is going to work, but I can't say no to him. "I don't want to leave, either, Brian. If you really want me to stay . . . I guess we can try it."

"Yes!" he grins, smacking a kiss onto my lips. "Now, you get your bubble butt into that hot tub and I'll be right back with the bubbly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I trick you? You were probably all ready for Sex sex sex - I mean, here they are in the hotel room with champagne. Its the end of the week and Brian promised to f**k Justin. But no. You were expecting smut and all you get is more angst. It's a cruel world out there people and I'm a very cruel person - at least for today. But, you should have at least gotten your purely romantic fix for a while. Hope you don't all hate me forever. TAG


	26. Recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Charming1 - Not satisfied with a light, fluffy, romantic chapter, huh? Well, here's your rauchy, filthy, sweaty for you. Next time, have a little more faith - I'll get you there, Baby! Hope you enjoy! TAG

Chapter 26 - Recovery.

Recovery: The action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost; a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

So I guess the night isn't completely ruined. We sit in the hot tub for a while. Brian's holding me the entire time like he's afraid if he loses physical contact with me that I'll dematerialize. We drink just enough of the champagne that some of the sad goes away but we never really get back to that same happy we were at before.

What with the busy day back at Kinnetik, the excitement of opening a bank account, and all the drama tonight, not to mention that huge dinner we ate and the almost two bottles of champagne we've consumed, I'm actually pretty tired. The hot tub drains away any energy I might have had left. I catch myself yawning more than once before Brian rousts us both out, dries me off with an enormous bath sheet supplied by the hotel, and bundles me into the big master bed. As soon as Brian crawls in next to me, I'm asleep.

~~*~~

Brian comes up from behind me. We're on his bed in the loft. I'm lying in the center of the bed on my stomach. He kneels on the bed, straddling my thighs. I can feel his hands touching me, starting with my legs and moving slowly up my body, running over my hips, my sides, curling over my back muscles then sliding over my shoulders and arms till his hands rest gripping my wrists. He has me pinned beneath his body now. I can feel every glorious inch of him.

He's biting at my shoulders and then he licks each little wound away making me moan. He's rocking his hips from side to side so his huge erection trails heavily across my lower back and buttocks. I want him inside me so badly.

'Brian, please. You said you'd fuck me,' I'm begging him. 'I need it, Brian. I need you so badly. Why won't you fuck me. Just take me. Make me yours.'

'I can't, Justin,' Brian growls with anger. 'I want you but I can't have you. Not while he still owns you. I won't share you. You're mine. But you have to get away from him.'

He's grinding his dick into my crack now. The tip is just millimeters from entering me. I can feel his heat, the blood pulsing through his cock making it twitch against my skin. I want that heat inside me. I'm so empty. Brian is the only one who can make me full.

'I want you to get hard for me Justin. I need to know you need me too.' Brian rasps, his voice harsh with his need.

'I can't Brian. I told you that I can't. I don't know what's wrong.' I'm crying in frustration because I need that hot hard cock inside me so badly.

'Yes, you can Justin. You just have to open the door.' Brian says.

And when I turn my head to look, the scene has changed. There's a different door there where the bathroom should be. It's the door to my old bedroom from when I was a child.

'I can't open it. It's locked. It's always locked.' I tell Brian who's now standing beside me, fully dressed once again and holding my hand.

'Maybe she has the key,' he says pointing to a small blonde woman standing off to one side.

It's my mother. She's crying. As I watch, she crumples to the ground, hiding her face in her hands. But then my father is there, too, pulling her hands away so I can see her lovely sad face.

'You need to see this, Jennifer. You need to see what a disgusting, perverted animal your son has become.' Craig's voice is hard and venomous, it drips hatred.

'See what you're doing to your mother, you ungrateful little piece of shit,' he screams at me. 'I've told you before, boy, that you will not abuse yourself in my house. How many times have you been told. Huh? Answer me! How many times have I told you that this behavior will NOT be tolerated.'

'Craig, please. You're overreacting.' my mother is trying to stop him.

He comes over to where I'm now lying on the floor and grabs me by my hair. He pulls me up to my knees. I'm naked again. 'Show your mother what it is you're spending all your time up here doing, boy. GO ON! I want her to see just what it is her precious little boy is doing with his dick all day.'

'Father, please. I don't want to do this. I promise I'll be better. Please.'

But I already know where this is going. He'll starve me if I don't obey. He's yelling and threatening and I know it's no use. So I do what I have to do to survive. I reach down and grab my flaccid dick and start pumping at it while I stare into my crying mother's horrified eyes.

'Craig, this is insane,' she yells after only a moment or two and she tries to stand up to face him down. 'This is not appropriate. I understand your position about this but it's not the proper way to handle this . . . '

'Shut up, Jennifer.' he growls and back hands her across the side of her face. 'How dare you try to undermine me in front of our son like that. I'm the man in this house and I say what's appropriate and what's not.

'Don't you fucking stop, boy,' he yells at me as I start to move toward my mother to help her. 'This is all your fault to start with. See what you've done? See what you made me do to your mother. You're the cause of every bad thing that's ever happened in this house. Now look at all this shit you've brought on us. Look at your mother lying there crying and bleeding. This is your fault, you perverted piece of shit.  
Before you came along we were perfectly happy. Now look at all this shit you've brought on us. I will not have you dragging the rest of this family down to hell with you because of your sinful nature, boy.'

My mother is crying in a heap on the floor in front of me. Her lip is split where he hit her and it's still bleeding. He's standing over us glaring down at this spectacle he's created. I can't tell if he's proud of his creation or just indifferent. I don't see any regret though.

'Now you get back to what I told you to do, boy,' he orders me. 'And you, Jennifer, you'll watch this because it's your coddling that's contributed to this depravity. And you'll both stay here until I say you can leave, damn it. You're going to learn your lesson boy. I'm the only man in this house. I'm the only one who has a legitimate reason to be using my dick. Yours shouldn't come out of your pants except when you piss.'

'And after today, if I ever catch you with so much as half a hard on, you'll think this,' he waves his hand to indicate the mess around us, 'was a fucking picnic.'

~~*~~

"Fuck you! You can't make me do this. I won't. How dare you do this to me. You've ruined my whole fucking life. Fuck you, father. Fuck you! . . . "

"Justin? What's wrong? What . . ." Brian's trying to get untangled from the sheets and sit up to stop me from flailing at him.

As soon as I hear Brian's voice I calm a little. His hands stroking my arms help even more. I'm starting to be able to focus on where I am, and the images in my head from my dream are fading.

Not a dream, though. I know that it wasn't just a dream - it really happened. Fuck! That really happened? My god. How could he do that to me? How dare he do that - to anyone?

Brian's still talking to me. He's doing that thing he does to soothe me - saying little nonsense things, holding me and stroking any piece of skin he can reach just to maintain a connection. He's so good. I fucking lucked out that day I passed out in Torso. I'm amazed at just how wonderful this man has been to me. He's the most beautiful, caring, most wonderful man I'll ever know.

And I won't let that sadistic shit, my father, take this away from me. l know what he did now. I'd always thought that somehow it had been my fault. That somehow I'd done something to cause my own problems. That I was broken or damaged or just wrong. But, it was never my fault - I know that now. I never did anything to deserve this. And I'm not going to let him get away with ruining my best chance of happiness ever.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Another fucking dream. I wish there was something I could do to help him, to stop all these bad memories from flooding back at him every night. And I can tell this was a bad one since I'm not able to quiet him for a long while. Fucking Craig Taylor. I'm not ready for what happens next, though.

"Brian," he says finally, turning to look at me now that the dream is fading, and I see to my astonishment that he's smiling.

Justin is smiling his great big Sunshine smile. He reaches around and touches my face, trailing his fingers lightly along my jaw and running his thumb across my lips. Then he twists around so he's sitting on his knees, his legs straddling mine and he grabs my hair with both hands. Holding my face steady, he dives in, claiming my lips for a passionate, deep kiss that curls my toes.

In mere moments, I feel something hot and hard growing up between us. As Justin leans into my body to deepen his kiss, I feel his cock harden even more. It's like an iron spike now, digging into my abs. I'm thrilled.

"Whoa! Sunshine. Look at you! That's magnificent!" I can't help it, I'm just so overjoyed for him and for me.

"Yeah. . . Ohhhh, Brian," he's moaning into my mouth and grinding against me, almost beyond control. "Maybe . . . less looking, and more touching? Please, Brian. I've got twenty years of pent up sexual frustration that needs to come out right now or I'm gonna explode."

"More than happy to oblige, Sunshine," I gleefully grab hold and enjoy the feel of hard muscle under silky skin as I stroke him slowly. "But what brought all this on so suddenly - not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"You don't want to know. Mmmmm. Brian, that feels so good," Justin pants out.

The poor kid is already halfway to his climax and all I've done is barely touch his dick. You gotta admire his enthusiasm, though. And he looks so beautiful right now, a thin sheen of sweat glistening off his pale ivory skin, his head thrown back, eyes closed and his mouth agape. If I hadn't already wanted him so badly my dick was practically screaming for him, seeing him like this would have definitely done the trick.

"Stop," he reaches for my hand and pulls it away. "I want you inside me the first time, Brian. I need you. Please fuck me, Brian. Now."

I see no reason to make him ask twice. I quickly flip us over so Justin's lying on his back. First, I bend to take a quick sweet taste of my luscious little blond, licking at the droplets of pre-cum leaking out of that tempting slit. The contact brings on a fresh surge and Justin's dick is now dripping wet. I almost let myself get distracted by the delicious sight, but then I remember that I have a specific request to fulfill, so I reluctantly move away.

The lube and condoms I stashed earlier in the nightstand are easily accessible. I get out what I need. With two well lubed fingers I pop into his ready little hole and do what I can to prepare him. I'd go slower if I could, but this is not going to be a slow, leisurely fuck. Justin's too far gone already to last much longer and I'm almost equally excited by the sight of his wanton, lust-filled body writhing at my every touch. This is going to be fast and hard.

When I think he's as ready as I dare get him, I take a chance and let my fingers brush just once across his prostate as I pull them out. I have to immediately reach down and squeeze his balls just a little bit tighter than is comfortable to stop him from cuming right then. When his breathless urgent gasps calm enough, telling me he'll last a bit longer, I let go and kiss those panting pink lips.

"Hold on for me, for just a few more minutes, Sunshine," I breathe into him and get a small nod in response. "Put your legs up on my shoulders, Justin. That's right. Now, just relax. I'll take care of you. Here we go."

The tiny mewling gasp he makes as I enter him is fucking adorable. I pause briefly to let him adjust and look down to find his eyes closed and a sweet smile on those perfect pink lips that makes me even hungrier for this moment. And then I begin to drive into him and there's no more room for thought.

That hot welcoming hole of his is a perfect fit. He's amazingly tight and I sigh out my pleasure as I slide in deeper. Fuck, this feels so right and we've both been waiting so long. I wish I could make it last but the electric tide inside my balls is already rising and won't be held back for long.

I pull out to his moaning cries and then slam back in with the harsh rush of his breath. I love how vocal he is. My balls are throbbing with the need to get release already. Oh fuck it - I give up on finesse and just start to drive into him relentlessly. I'm reveling in the quickly building overload of sensations.

My ecstatic little blond is thrashing and writhing beneath me all the while. He arches up to meet my every thrust. And I'm just about to reach between us to start stroking him, when I feel his body freeze and hear his breath catch. Then he cries out and I know he's going to cum without my even touching him.

"Oh, Brian. God. I'm cuming. Oh fuck. Fuck. . . Fuck. . . Aaaaah!"

He shoots then, so hard that I can feel his cum pelting against my chest. The smell of sex and the feel as his ass muscles clench around my dick is more than enough to take me over the edge right after him. As we're both drained by the physical and emotional release, I collapse onto his sticky torso, never wanting to have to move ever again.

Before my brain circuitry is even completely back on line, Justin is already brushing my sweaty hair away from my eyes and smiling up at me adoringly.

"Thank you, Brian. That was utterly amazing."

"Mmfph," I answer, which translates from the post-coital as: 'Yes, it was rather good for me as well. You're more than welcome.'

"So, Brian," this talkative minx presses on, smiling coyly as he goes. "Not that I'm trying to be greedy or ungrateful or anything, but I was just kind of wondering, um, well, exactly how long before you're ready to go again?"

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian is incredible. Really. I've been with lots of guys but I've never seen anyone who's able to fuck as many times and in such rapid succession as Brian. I was really just joking before when I asked him how long till he was ready again. Brian seemed to take it as a personal challenge, though. And let me just say he rose to the challenge (pun intended) beautifully.

After the first time, there were two more times in bed, once in the hot tub and once in the shower, then once with me draped over the back of the couch when we got distracted on our way to get some drinks at the bar. When we made it back to bed after that one, we both fell asleep for a little while. Now I'm awake again, and I really have to pee, but I'm afraid to move for fear of waking him up - he'd probably feel it necessary to fuck me again, just to prove the point. Not that I'd really mind. I mean I am a bit sore, but just the thought of what Brian can do with his dick and his hands and his mouth . . . Mmmmm. Maybe it's not that bad an idea to wake him up after all.

I'm just in the middle of trying to decide the best location and position for our next fuck, when I'm interrupted by the noise of his cell phone vibrating away on the nightstand. I quickly pick it up to stop the rattling sound from waking Brian, and I notice the caller ID reads 'Jennifer Taylor'. Fuck.

I’d managed to forget about that stupid ‘Missing’ flyer. But, of course, Brian didn’t because he promised to call her for me. I wonder if they already spoke or if this is just her returning his call from yesterday. He didn’t say anything about it, but that doesn’t mean anything because he wouldn’t if he thought it would hurt me. Fuck. 

“Who was calling, Sunshine,” Brian mutters as he curls his body closer around mine, trying to pull me back down to the pillow so he can get to my lips, I suspect. 

“I was trying to silence it before the noise woke you,” I tell him, putting the phone on the far side nightstand as I snuggle back into his arms. 

“Too late. I’m awake. So, what do we do now?” Brian teases, his hands already creeping under the covers, seeking out his new favorite play toy. 

When he finds what he was after, we’re both distracted for a while from the phone call and everything else. “I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” I hear from under the blankets somewhere down by my navel, as I feel Brian’s tongue tasting and licking from the tip of my cock down the shaft. When he reaches my balls and takes them both into his mouth, sucking on each in turn, I’m lost to any further worries.

He carefully releases my balls and moves back up to where he can lick and nibble the super-sensitive skin at the tip. It’s almost ticklish, these little touches and bites, and they make me squirm from wanting so much more. But just before it starts to get uncomfortable, Brian opens wide and takes all of me into his mouth, causing me to sigh with pleasure. 

And, I don’t care if Brian is the premiere top of the town, he’s got some definite skills in the blow job area, too. To start with - no gag reflex - which is obvious when he deep throats me right off. Then, there’s the things he’s doing with his tongue, which I’m not sure are physically possible with your mouth that full, but my dick is witness to the amazing maneuvers, nevertheless. And finally, there’s his perfect sense of rhythm and his timing. It’s like a sixth sense - he seems to knows just the perfect speed to move at to get me to the maximum state of arousal so fast. The warmth, the constant, steady suction, the roving tongue curling around and leaving erotic patterns in its wake, and, above everything else, just knowing that Brian is the one doing this wondrous thing for me, are the ultimate in erotic stimulation. 

“Brian. Brian. Oh, god, Brian. Brian, brian, brian, brianbrianbrianbrian. . . “ this chanting voice finally penetrates my haze of arousal a second or two before I realize it’s me making these sounds. I don’t have long to wonder at or be embarrassed by my abject lack of control, though, because Brian has just poked his tongue into the slit at the tip of my cock and it’s enough to drive me beyond wild. I’m shooting into his throat hard, over and over again, spurt after spurt and he’s taking it all.

Did I mention how absolutely incredible Brian Kinney was? Yeah, well, even that word doesn’t really describe what I’m feeling about this man right now. Maybe I need to find a new word - Sex God, would probably be applicable, but maybe a little embarrassing in public. I’ll think about it later, though, sometime when I’m not panting, sweating and shaking after a mind numbing orgasm.

“You taste so amazing, Sunshine,” Brian says, as his head turtles up from under the blankets. He moves unerringly to my lips to kiss me and share my taste. That salty, earthy sensation on Brian’s smooth, insistent tongue is almost enough to get me hard again right then. 

Brian’s actions bring me back again to the attempt to describe everything his is and all he does to me. ‘Unthinkable’ comes to mind, but that’s too mundane. ‘Fabulous’ is too gay, even for me. ‘Amazing’ just isn’t enough to explain how amazing he is. Same with ‘Fantastic’. ‘Excellent’ sounds too high school. 

“Hmmm?” I mumble without realizing I’m saying anything aloud.

“You’re thinking way too hard, Sunshine. Never a good sign,” Brian says, trying to distract me with a series of light, loud kisses running down my jaw and neck. “So, what is it that’s keeping you so occupied when I’m trying my best to distract you?”

“I was trying to come up with the perfect word to describe you,” I tell him honestly. “But, it’s really hard because you’re so much more than any one word can cope with. Right now I’m leaning towards ‘Superlative’. It means, ‘surpassing all others’, which I think is applicable, but it sounds a little hokey. Anyway, I’ll keep working on it and let you know when I come up with the right word,”

That makes Brian laugh. I love the sound of his laughter. It strikes me that he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to laugh in real life and that makes me even happier that I was the one who gave this to him.

“Oh, Sunshine. You’re too much. Here I am trying my damnedest to give you the best fucking blow job you’ll ever have, and you’re doing some elementary school grammar exercise. I love you, Sunshine.” Brian says between chuckles and then falls silent as the impact of what he just said hits us both.

Quick. Quick, I have to distract him before he freaks out over that. Before I freak out over that. We’re not ready for that. I’m desperate to find something that will get our minds off Brian’s little involuntary declaration. My vision falls on the cell phone I’d left on the edge of the side table and I seize it and the topic as a lifeline to get us out of this morass of scary emotions.

“Brian, you know you asked about that call that came in before? The caller ID said it was from Jennifer Taylor. Did you . . . talk to her yesterday?” I ask and I’m reassured when I see Brian start to breath again more regularly.

“Yeah. I did,” Brian admits, starting to get up out of bed. “I didn’t want to bother you with it last night though - we had other things to talk about. I could use some breakfast, how about you? Let’s call room service and then we can talk about what she told me, okay?”  
“Okay. That sounds good. I’m a little hungry,” I readily concede, as my stomach growls and backs up my claims, causing us both to laugh a little again and bringing us back to a more comfortable place.

There’s plenty of time later to deal with uncomfortable subjects like ‘love’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea! Sex! Finally, right? I know we were all waiting for this and we're so happy to get to it finally. Now, I'm going to have to work really hard to find ways to get the boys to stop having sex long enough to finish all the necessary plot requirements of my story. Don't worry though. I have a few tricks up my sleeve that should help to get them out of bed for at least a few minutes at a time. Thanks for all your great comments! Love reading them and I'm flattered at how much thought you are devoting to my little fic. Yay, Readers! TAG
> 
> PS - Had to change the rating on the story to NC-18 after this. Sorry, I just don't think I'm capable of writing a non-NC18 story. I tried, but. . . I have a very dirty mind. TAG


	27. Betterment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay - It's a little bit schmoopy but with just enough smut thrown in to keep my critics happy, I hope. Please don't be too mean to my OOC Brian - he really is trying to be a heartless asshole but it's tough with a beautiful naked Justin around all the time. Still having trouble coming up with good ways to keep them out of bed now that they've fallen into it. Keep those ideas coming, readers. Hope you all enjoy. TAG

Chapter 27 - Betterment.

Betterment: The process of enhancing or improving someone or something; an improvement over what has been the case.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian orders us breakfast from room service and we take a quick shower together before it gets here. And this time, we do just shower, amazingly enough. I guess even sex gods need occasional sustenance in order to keep up their peckers. I'm pretty much starving after all that exercise, myself.

The food arrives and the waiter sets up the meal in the formal dining room - which seems odd since Brian and I aren't wearing anything besides terry cloth robes as we sit and eat off china plates at this huge table. While we eat, Brian tells me about his meeting with my mother. He's very careful to disclose everything with a very neutral air - which just makes me wonder what Brian's really thinking. Fuck knows I don't know what to think about her claim that she didn't know where I was or what my father had done. It seems . . . Improbable. But, after what I had remembered last night, I guess I didn't put anything past my father. Shit. Now I had to figure out what I was going to do about her.

"So, I told her I'd let you decide if you wanted to talk to her," Brian ends. "If you do want to talk with her I'll set it up. If you don't want to see her, I'll tell her to get lost. It's totally your call."

It's a lot to get my brain around. Everything's happening so fast and there's so much to think about. So much has changed in such a short time. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with all this new information, all these new ideas and all these uncontrolled new emotions. I haven't let myself feel or think in months, if not years, and now, in the course on just one week it's all coming back up at once. Little channels of panic are beginning to creep in on me as I sit here, and I want to stop them from taking over, but how?

Without even sitting up, Brian snakes out one long, well-toned leg and uses his ankle to hook around the leg of the chair I'm sitting in. Then, with seemingly little effort, he tugs my chair around the corner of the table, closer to him. When the two chairs meet, he grabs my hand and tows me over so I'm planted in his lap. How did he know that I needed him right then? He just does, though, and I'm happy to curl up against his chest and rest my head on his shoulder so Brian's arms can wrap around to protect me.

"Talk, Sunshine. Where is that little blond head taking you?"

"When would I have to decide?"

"There's no timeline. You can take all the time you want to think about things," Brian reassures me. "Whatever you decide, whenever you get to it, is fine."

I think I'm too tired right now to decide anything, though. And, now that I've been fed and I'm resting my head on Brian's warm shoulder, the exhaustion is starting to take over. I just want to sleep right now and I'll think later.

"Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think there is a word for you. I'm going to have to invent my own word," I mumble between yawns. "How about 'Kinneyent'?"

"I like it, Sunshine," Brian says laughingly as he scoops me up and carries me back to the bed where I fall asleep almost at once.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

While Justin naps I make some phone calls. First I check in with Cynthia - everything's going smoothly at the office so I'm good there. Ted has a quick update for me on a couple things too, all of which can wait for the moment though. Then I return the call to to Jennifer Taylor - better to get it over with, I figure.

She's not happy when I tell her that Justin hasn't decided if he wants to see her or not. She wants me to try to get him to at least talk to her, but I tell her I won't do it. He's had enough of people manipulating him and making decisions for him. This is one decision I'll let him make on his own - even if it takes him months to make it. I tell Jennifer that I'll let her know whatever Justin decides but that it might be a while. I hope she isn't planning on calling me daily for updates.

Then I quickly check my email. There's one interesting one that I shoot off a quick response to before joining Justin back in bed. I note that it's already 9:00 am so we won't get much sleep before we have to check out. Oh well - it was worth it, I think as another silly smile breaks out on my face.

But that silly smile reminds me of all the other 'silly' things I've been doing recently and all of the sudden I'm not sleepy. Actually, I'm shocked. Did I really just ask Justin to move in with me - permanently? And, fuck me - I think I also told him I l-loved him? What the fuck? What was I thinking? I can't do this. Can I? Where the fuck did all this come from?

I could probably deal with the living together thing - I do want him to stay and it's been going okay so far, right? I can do this living together thing. At least I think so. But, that other thing? That, I'm not sure I can deal with. Brian Kinney doesn't do something like that - just blurting out that he . . . fuck, I can't even think the word, how I the fuck did I manage to say it.

Granted, at the moment I was really not thinking clearly. I've just had six or seven hours of mind-blowing sex with the guy. So I can blame it on exhaustion and post-coital temporary insanity, right? Plus, Justin was being so fucking adorable at the time with his cute little game of making up a word for me. Fuck, now I'm thinking he's 'cute' and 'adorable' too.

I'm well into freak out mode now. What was I thinking? How do I get out of this?

Then Justin rolls over so that he's partly curled up along my side but with one arm draped over my stomach and one leg sprawled over my thighs. His dick is half hard and resting on my hip. His head is lying in the hollow of my shoulder and I can smell the peachy scent of the complimentary hotel shampoo he used earlier which, combined with the clean muskiness of his skin, is so completely enticing. And, all of a sudden, I know exactly what I was thinking when I said that - I was thinking that this lovely man is perfect and I don't care how ridiculously romantic it might be but I want him in my life forever.

So I guess it's okay that I asked him to move in with me and even that I said that other thing. I nuzzle into his hair and let the smell of him into me. And I pull his body tighter against mine so I can feel that he's safe beside me. This feels right.

Maybe I'll just get some more sleep and worry about it later.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I'm not really being very productive this afternoon, I'm afraid. I rub my eyes and try to hide the fifth or sixth yawn I've been unable to stop since this meeting began. The rest of the art department is all energized about some bonus Brian is offering for a new campaign idea for Liberty Air's fall ads.

However, between only getting a couple hours of sleep total last night and not being able to sit in one position for very long on account of my incredibly sore ass, I'm not even remotely able to concentrate on what anyone's saying. All I seem to be able to do is sit here, squirming, with a stupid shit-eating grin on my face, fantasizing about last night. And about what I plan to do to Brian tonight.

I wonder when Brian will be back from his appointment. Maybe if he gets back soon, I won't have to wait until tonight to take care of one of those little fantasies I keep having. Where did he say he was going anyway? After we checked out of the hotel he dropped me off back here and said he had an appointment but that he'd be back later. I can't remember if he said where he was going though. It doesn't matter as long as he's back soon.

Oh thank god, this stupid meeting is over and I can go back to my desk. At least there I can daydream in peace. I promise to be more productive tomorrow, but today it's just not gonna happen so why even try. I think I can get a couple more minor things done from my ToDo list - which I still love, even when I'm too tired to think - but then I really just need to get back to the loft and get a little more sleep.

Before I get a chance to do very much daydreaming though, Ted asks me to come to his office to sign a bunch of papers. Apparently he got some documents from my old school that will help me get the process started to get a real state ID card issued. I only have to sign about a hundred pieces of paper to do it. I'm just glad Ted seems to know what all this means, because I have no idea. I'm really excited about the prospect of getting ID - it'll be like undisappearing. I'll be a legitimate person again with ID to prove it. I can't wait.

And then it's time to leave work, but Brian isn't back yet. I'm getting a little anxious suddenly, because I don't know where he is. I know that's stupid. We don't need to be together 24/7, but it's just that I don't know where he went or if I should wait for him or how long he'll be. So I sit at my desk and fret for about a half hour before I remember the cell phone he gave me. He said I could call him anytime, right? So I pull the phone out of my jacket pocket, push the button and say, 'call Brian', just like he told me. And, it works!

"Hey, Sunshine," Brian's voice coming out of the tiny speaker is enough to calm me instantly. "I'm just on my way back to Kinnetik to collect you. Sorry I'm running late. My meeting with the lawyers took longer than I'd planned. Everything okay there?"

That's right. He did say something about having to go to his lawyer's office. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to know if I should wait for you here."

"You can wait there if you want. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Or, better yet, why don't you head on over to the Diner and I'll meet you there? We never really did get lunch, so I'm sure you're starving," he suggests.

"Okay."

"Great. See you there Sunshine," Brian says and ends the call.

I quickly gather together my things and start towards the exit. But I hesitate as my hand touches the door. I know this is pathetic, but I'm suddenly afraid to leave here without Brian. He's always brought me here to his office and then been there to take me back with him to the loft at the end of end of each day. I've never left here alone.

But this is stupid, of course. Before Brian I'd been alone for years. Actually, when I think about it, it feels lIke I've always been alone my whole life. So walking out this door and going a few blocks away without him next to me shouldn't be that big a deal, right? It's just that, now that I'm not alone, I don't want to ever go back. And even feeling alone again for this short time, scares me shitless.

But that's where Brian will be so I have to go there. And it's really not that far away. I'm just being silly. I know it. So why aren't my feet moving yet? Fuck it, I just need to go.

So I push the office door open and walk through it and, of course, everything's fine. I walk the few blocks over to the Diner without any problem. I've walked up and down this street about a million times over the past few years so why I should be scared now is a mystery. But now that I've remastered this skill, I'll be fine.

Except that, the unease I got from just leaving the office alone and walking by myself is nothing compared to the anxiety I feel when I get to the Diner and contemplate going inside by myself. This is something I never did before Brian. I'd looked inside lots of times. I'd longed to go inside - the light, the warmth, the smells of cooking food - it was all so enticing, but I never dared come inside before I met Brian. How exactly was I going to do this alone?

"Justin? Everything okay?" someone standing behind me asks and I instantly shuffle away so I'm not blocking the doorway.

But, whoever it is follows me. That's when I look up and discover that I've lucked out once again. Standing next to me with a concerned look on his face is Ben. I let out a huge relieved sigh.

"What's wrong, Justin?" Ben asks again.

"It's nothing. Just that Brian wants me to meet him here, but, I . . . I felt weird going inside by myself," Ben is one of those people who are easy to talk to and I'm not scared to explain my problem to him.

"Well, then how about if you come inside with me? God knows I'm not Brian, but I'd be happy to escort you to dinner. Will that help?" Ben says, crooning his elbow in my direction like a true gentleman.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Anytime. After you."

His 'Gone With The Wind' act makes me laugh and all my anxiety vanishes almost immediately. I follow Ben inside and he leads me to one of the far booths where he slides into a seat next to Michael, kissing him on the cheek in greeting. Ben indicates I should take the other seat, which I do gratefully. Sitting here with Brian's friends is almost as good as sitting with Brian himself. And as we talk, I'm able to relax a little and start to enjoy myself. This really isn't so bad.

Maybe by the time I get real ID again and become a legitimate person, I'll actually feel like one too.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

The fucking traffic is a nightmare tonight. I made the mistake of thinking the highway would be faster and then, once I got on and realized it was a virtual parking lot, I was stuck. So it takes me closer to a half hour to get the less than ten miles back to Liberty Ave. I'm starting to get worried about Justin, too - I hope he's not upset that I'm so late.

At least when I pull up to the Diner there's a parking spot almost right in front of the door. And the Diner doesn't look too packed tonight, so we will at least be able to get a table with no problem. I rush inside, looking around to find my Sunshine, but I don't see him right away. All I see is Mikey waving me over to the booth where he's sitting with Ben.

Then I notice the big, leather-daddy type standing next to their booth talking to someone sitting with their back to me - the shock of white-blond hair tells me immediately who. And, as I watch, Butch reaches out and puts his big beefy hand on my Sunshine's shoulder. He's standing way too close and leaning down to whisper in Justin's ear on top of everything.

The white hot stab of anger that pulses through me at that moment surprises me, but I'm not gonna stop long enough to analyze my response. I stomp up to the table, grab that offensive slab of meat he uses in lieu of a hand off Justin's shoulder and wrench it and the arm around so that Butch is now facing me. He starts to give me the same look he'd give to anyone who'd dare to do such a thing, but I guess something in my face stops him.

"What's your problem, Kinney?" is all he asks instead.

"He's not interested," I tell Butch, gesturing towards Justin.

"I'd say that's his call to make, not yours buddy," Butch challenges me.

"And I'd say, he's with me and if you don't get your fucking meat paws off him, you'll be coming on to the next guy with stubs instead. Now fuck off," I glare at him, and apparently he believes me because he sidles off with nothing more than a dirty look or two in my direction.

As soon as the Butch guy is gone, I slide into the booth next to Justin, relief flooding out the anger that I was feeling before. My blond is smiling over at me with his full wattage smile and I suddenly realize what a big jealous asshole I was just being. When I risk a glance across the booth to the professor and Mikey, I know they saw it too - Ben is beaming at me with this indulgent 'isn't love grand' smile and Mikey is staring with wide eyed disbelief. Okay, so Brian Kinney DOES do jealousy, at least where Justin is concerned. But I'm not going to admit it.

"You'd better shut your trap, Mikey, or flies are going to get in there," I say with all the nonchalance I can muster, causing Mikey to snap his mouth closed. "Professor, how's things in the realm of academia?"

"Academia is doing just fine, Brian. Thanks for asking," Ben, of course, will let me slide - he'd never be so rude as to point out anyone else's shortcomings, it would be such bad karma.

Mikey, on the other hand, is just about to explode with recriminations and demands for an explanation of my actions, etc. I have to act fast to override his natural nosiness. Luckily I've known Michael Novotny long enough that I know all his pressure points, and in the name of self-preservation, I'm going to poke one hard right now.

"So, Mikey, I saw in the paper that Davina Davore is coming back to town. Any plans for a big family reunion?" Okay, I know this is really hitting low, but a man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do to protect his withering reputation, right?

"What? When? . . ." Michael sputters on, thoroughly distracted, thankfully, and I can relax again, my heartless asshole rep still mostly intact for the moment.

"Hey, Sunshine," I finally greet my blond companion. "Didn't mean to be so late. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he glows happily back at me. "That was a very 'Kinneyent' entrance you made, though."

His teasing manner throws me off guard right away and I can't help laughing at myself with him. "Yeah, I guess it was, Sunshine."

Justin leans in to kiss me sweetly right then, and I just have to take that opportunity to brush a strand of his hair out of his eyes, tucking it back behind one adorable seashell ear. I guess I forget, again, about where we are and who's watching. Its just hard to concentrate on anything else when Sunshine is sitting there being all fucking beautiful all the time. But, the sound of Debbie popping her gum breaks through my reverie.

I look up to see Debbie standing next to the table, her order pad in hand and a schmoopy sentimental look on her face. Ben and Michael are staring as well, even the professor looking a little astounded. And behind them, at the next booth over, three or four more heads are turned our way, open-mouthed stares on each and every face.

Shit. Oh well, the heartless asshole rep was getting old anyway. Let em think what they want. I'm still Brian Kinney and I still do whatever the fuck I want and I don't give a crap about what anyone thinks of me. So let em stare.

"Ready to order, Sunshine?" I ask and punctuate my resolve not to care what they all think with a kiss on Justin's soft, utterly-kissable cheek.

"Whatever you think, Brian," Sunshine responds with a shy smile.

"Okay. Deb, bring him a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate shake. Wait," I look over at the tap on my arm and note the small tilt of his head, "make that a coke. And I'll have my usual."

What the fuck - let em stare!

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian didn't freak out at the Diner like I thought he would. I'm starting to think that maybe this thing between us can work. He really is amazing.

On the way inside, Brian stops to get the mail, just like he always does, sorting through it as we ride up in the elevator. As we're getting out, he hands one envelope to me and then pulls out his keys to get the door. He moves inside, depositing his briefcase on the desk and hanging up his jacket. He doesn't realize I haven't moved yet until he goes to pull the loft door closed and sees me still standing on the landing.

"Sunshine?"

I'm still looking at the envelope in my hands. It's addressed to me. Justin Taylor. I got a letter. It's another first. I'm not sure what to do now. I've never got a letter before.

"Open it, Justin," Brian directs as he tows me inside. "It's not going to bite you."

I carefully pry open the flap and pull out a thick piece of official looking paper. It's from the bank. And, there's a plastic card attached to the bottom fold of the paper. It has my name on it too.

"Oh good. Your ATM card is here already. That was fast," is Brian's comment as he moves over to sit at the desk and go through his own mail. "Don't forget to sign it on the back right away."

I detach the card from the sticky gunk holding it to the paper and turn it over. There's the place where you're supposed to sign it, just like Brian said. Now what?

"Sunshine," Brian waves me over and hands me a pen. "Sign your name in that white area there on the back. Good, now put it away until you need it."

Brian's directions bring up another dilemma though. Where should I keep this? Where do I keep anything?

Screwing up my courage, I tap Brian on the arm to get his attention one more time. "Um, Brian? Were you serious about me staying here, living here, I mean?"

"Of course I was, Justin. Why?"

"Well, if I'm staying, then um maybe I could have a place to put some stuff," I say, holding out the new ATM card as an example.

Brian smiles at that. "You're right, sunshine, you are going to need some space of your own," Brian says, opening up one of the drawers of the desk and pulling out a stack of papers and a few other small items.

"There. Your drawer. You can put your bank stuff and any other paperwork in there. And I've already cleared out some space in the dresser and the closet for your clothes. Now, what else do you need?" Brian asks me with a grin.

"Um. Maybe someplace to put my art stuff when we're here?" I hand him my sketch pad that I carry with me now almost everywhere.

"Hmm. How about on the bookcase over there by the window? Will that do?"

I nod and smile, then bustle around briefly, putting things away.

"Brian?" I interrupt him one more time, too excited not to say something.

"Yeah?" he looks up at me from the papers he's sorting.

"I have stuff," I brag. "And, places to put it all."

"Fuck, Justin," Brian laughs as he gets up and comes around the desk to grab me in a tight embrace. "You're so easy to please."

"I bet you know some other easy ways to please me," I tease.

"I just might," he whispers as he bites my earlobe lightly. "Mmmm. And, you know exactly how to please me, too."

I really do want to please him, a lot. So I drop to my knees and unzip his slacks right there. It's been more than seven hours since I had his dick in me and I'm not going to wait even a second more. As fast as I can, I get his slacks and briefs pulled down and I dive right in to feast on that delicious Kinney cock.

It takes him all of fifteen seconds to get hard as a rock while I lick and stroke him. He's got the most beautiful cock I've ever seen. I want to worship that cock for the rest of my life, if he'll let me. And, I get to start right now.

At first I just suck the tip in, letting my tongue dart into his sensitive slit and play along the hard ridge. Then I trace the veins down the underside, taking in more of him as I go. Finally, when I feel him nudging against the back of my throat, I take him all in, letting myself swallow him down till my nose is buried in his soft auburn pubes. I love the smell of him - earthy, musky and with a whiff of his sandalwood soap.

His fingers are sifting through my hair as I start to work in earnest, moving my head to the pace he sets as he begins to thrust into my mouth. While his hands guide my head, my hands massage at his thighs and his butt cheeks, brushing tentatively into his crack every few moments. I want to smile when I hear him moan out my name, but since smiling isn't easy when your mouth's full of dick, I just moan back and hopefully let the vibrations carry my sentiment back to him. 

Soon I can tell he's ready for more - he's picking up the pace, thrusting at me faster and harder. I'm ready. I suck at him a little stronger and start to stroke and massage that soft patch of skin right behind his balls. Its enough to bring him to a fast climax, his jizz shooting into me and hitting the back of my throat hard. I'm not even able to swallow fast enough to get it all as spurt after spurt gush into my mouth. But as soon as he's done, I lap up what I missed and then climb back to my feet.

"Unhh. Fuck, Justin."

"Okay. If you insist," I answer, lacing my fingers through his and trailing an unresisting Brian behind my wiggling, needy ass up to the bedroom where I hope he'll show me exactly how easy it is to please me again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that I'll find a way to get the boys out of bed and advance the plot somehow. It's just so hard, you know (pun definitely intended) now that Justin is back in business. Between all their sex and their lovey-dovey-ness, I'm having a tough time remembering what it was I was trying to write about. Don't worry, though. I'll find my notes so I can remember where exactly I was going with this and, even if I have to take DavidR's advice and bring Joan walking in on them in flagrante, I'll get them out of bed long enough to get this story to a close. Thanks for reading, everyone. TAG


	28. Alterations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of big changes in this chapter and those coming. Will Brian adjust to the idea of Justin living with him full time. Will Justin ever become fully comfortable with who he is and the concept that he is a person in his own right. We'll answer these questions and many more in the next episode of . . . . Smoldering. TAG
> 
> *** Warning - Topsy! Justin scene - Don't like, then don't read! ***

Chapter 28 - Alterations.

Alterations: The process or result of making or becoming different: A change, modification or adjustment in one’s state of being.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

After two nights of pretty much nonstop fucking, am I allowed to admit that he's worn me out without losing face? I lost track of how many times we did it sometime after we hit double digits. And even though we mixed it up a bit with blow jobs and a hand job or two, I don't know how Justin will be able to walk today, let alone sit at a desk all day. Voracious doesn't even start to describe that boy's sexual appetite now that he's got it back.

He still hasn't told me what brought about the big change. I'm not complaining, but I am curious. I'm also concerned that whatever it is might come back to haunt us both if we don't talk it out. But, talking hasn't really been big on the agenda lately. I think though that I'm going to have to maybe set some limitations for him - otherwise, at this rate, my dick will be worn to a nub by the end of the week. And, maybe we can use some of that down time to talk.

in the meantime, I have to somehow wake up enough to get through this budget meeting with my executive staff, handle a conference call with a major client and then meet with my Art Director about staffing issues - all before lunch. Really, Justin's going to simply have to let me get SOME sleep tonight. Caffeine alone is just no longer enough.

Somehow, I make it through to lunchtime. Justin doesn't know it yet, but we have big lunch plans today. I wish I didn't look quite so much like a zombie, but it's too late to worry about that. So I call Justin up from the art department and bundle him into the car for a drive out to Carnegie Mellon University.

"Justin, I know you're not big on surprises, so this is me giving you a heads up," I say while we're driving. "When Ted was getting the info from your school that we're using to get you new ID, he also got some information on an old friend of yours. We've emailed back and forth the past few days and I thought you might want to meet again. I hope this is okay."

Justin is looking at me like this is definitely NOT okay. I haven't even told him who it is yet and he's already panicking. Well, I'm glad I decided not to go the surprise route here. He doesn't look angry, though, so maybe it won't be too bad.

Strangely, Justin doesn't ask who we're going to see. He just sits in the passenger seat of the Vette, silently staring out the window the whole way. The only indication I have that he's really upset is the way he's biting at his lip. I wish I could make this easier for him, but when even things I think will be good are this hard for him to deal with, I don't see how.

I park and lead Justin to the little sandwich place near campus where we agreed to meet. He's following without any kind of protest, but without any enthusiasm either. Fuck. You'd think from his expression I was taking him to meet Hitler or someone equally vile. I hope I'm doing the right thing.

She recognizes Justin before he even sees her, and stands up to get our attention - which is good for me because I didn't know what she looks like. I've already tried, to the extent I could without violating his privacy, to give her a little prior warning about Justin's likelihood of getting a bit freaked out meeting her, and thankfully she paid attention. Instead of jumping up, running towards Justin and greeting him effusively, the pretty young brunette simply stands there with a friendly smile on her face.

"Justin. God, it's so great to see you," she says when we reach the table where she'd been sitting. "I was so worried when your mother contacted me a couple months ago and told me you were missing. I'm really glad you're alright."

"Daphne?" Justin says, his shock and disbelief evident from his tone and bewildered expression.

"Hi, Daphne. I'm Brian - the one who emailed," I interject in an attempt to give Justin a few more moments to adjust while I shake hands with Daphne. "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Not a problem. I'm grateful you contacted me to let me know Justin's okay," Daphne says as she sits back down. "So, Jus? How are you? I'm so excited to see you. I've missed you."

Justin doesn't say anything right away and I'm starting to regret setting this meeting up - I didn't think it would be this traumatic for him. Then, without actually looking at Daphne, Justin starts to speak.

"A tuna fish sandwich, a People magazine and a case of nails,"Justin says cryptically.

Daphne laughs boisterously, and I start to think maybe it's just me that understands nothing here.

"Okay, I get the case of nails, maybe even the magazine. But, why would you bring a tuna sandwich to a deserted island where there's no refrigeration?" Daphne asks.

"Well, because I like tuna sandwiches, and i know I'd be hungry right after the ship wreck, so I might as well have lunch with me to keep my strength up until we found edible fruit or caught some fish or something," Justin explains, sort of.

"I think I just missed something?" I complain.

"It's just this ongoing debate we had - what three things would you take with you if you were Gilligan and knew you were going to be stranded on a deserted island," Daphne explains. "We sort of had this running conversation about it and one or the other of us would always be coming up with new ideas. Only, Justin's ideas were always a little impractical."

"Well I might have been impractical but your ideas were always just too mundane and predictable," Justin says with a smile back on his no longer nervous face, and I know it's going to be okay.

"Why don't I go get lunch and you two can continue this fascinating topic of conversation," I suggest and I leave them to their reunion.

When I come back to the table with our drinks, I hear the tail end of a new topic, though. "So? You and Brian?" I hear Daphne's voice asking.

"Mmm Hmm." Justin nods eagerly.

"Wow. He's to die for! You totally lucked out, Jus!"

"You don't even know the half of it, Daph," Justin responds but doesn't get any further due to my arrival on the scene.

"Don't mind me," I say as they both clam up upon my return. "Feel free to keep talking about how gorgeous I am. I don't mind in the least."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Daphne! Brian found Daphne for me! It's incredible. And it felt like there hadn't really been any time at all between now and the last time we talked, even though it's been years. I'd missed her so much. And now I have her back. Thanks to Brian.

Brian kind of hovered all during lunch, but didn't talk much. Okay, maybe Daph and I didn't give him much chance to talk. But he was still there for me the whole time - holding my hand under the table or touching my arm or just sitting there. He's so . . . 'great' just doesn't cover it, does it? I'm going back to 'Kinneyent'.

Daph is in the Pre Med program at Carnegie Mellon. I'm not surprised though - she always was brilliant and said she wanted to be a doctor even back when we were in elementary school. She's really busy, but we still made plans to get together this weekend for pizza and movies at the loft. I can't wait to hang out with her again.

And the best part of seeing Daphne is that she didn't ask any awkward questions like, 'where have you been for the past five years?' I didn't have to explain to her about my father or being on the street or any of it. All the things I was afraid to tell anyone - stuff I knew would drive people away in disgust or cause them to pity me - none of that even came up. I didn't have to worry about the fact that she wouldn't like the person I've become, because she didn't care at all. She was just happy to see me. I think maybe I can have a friend again.

And, once again, it's all because of Brian.

As we're getting out of the car back at Kinnetik, I walk up to him and kiss him hard and long. I think he wasn't expecting it because he doesn't kiss back for at least a few seconds. When he does, he's . . . Well I guess you'd call it reluctant. Brian Kinney may not be the least bit ashamed of his sexuality, but I've noticed that he's not very demonstrative at work. It makes sense - he's the boss and he doesn't want his employees talking about him in that fashion. Plus, I think he's trying to protect me, in a way, from more incidents like with Toby.

"What was that for, Sunshine," Brian asks when I finally let him go.

"It's for making me feel like I'm almost real again. Thank you, Brian," I say, trying to put into words something that didn't even come easily in my thoughts. "You've done so much for me. I don't know how to tell you what it means to me, but . . . well, just, thank you."

"You're welcome, Sunshine. But, you've always been real to me. I'm just glad you're finally starting to believe it too."

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I'm glad that everything with Justin and Daphne went so well. By the time lunch was over they were babbling at each other like two old friends should. And I know how much it meant to Justin to get his friend back. What more it's going to take to convince him he's all the way real, though, I don't know. But I'm going to keep trying.

Now that I've done my good deed for the day, however, it's time to indulge my more evil and vindictive side. Craig Taylor is not going to get away with what he's done. I'm going to make sure of it and hopefully take care of Justin at the same time. So, after I send Justin off, back to the art department, I head into my office and call in my minions.

"Hey, Cynthia. Get Dewey Cheatem' on the phone for me and send in Theodore, then join us with your notary journal," I direct as I pass my assistant's desk.

"Doug Chatham, your attorney, is already holding for you on line three, Brian, and you know he hates it when you call him that," Cynthia replies with her typical efficiency.

"Why else would I keep doing it if it didn't get him pissed off. That's why it's fun," I answer, punching the correct phone line as I recline at my desk. "Talk to me, Cheatem'. Tell me we can do this."

"Of course you CAN do this, Mr. Kinney. But as I told you yesterday I really don't advise it. There are significant risks . . . "

"I know the risks, but I'm willing to take those risks if it gets us Taylor. Theodore, were you able to get those financials for me?"

"I got em, Bri," Ted gloats. "Just don't ask how - my buddy over at Werkschafter's will deny everything if we get caught, which means this is all on us. But, the good news is that you were right. Taylor has been very greedy. He's in debt up to his eyebrows. So far he's been doing okay, but he's so highly leveraged that one little snafu would probably send him off the deep end. Here, I've highlighted the important stuff for you."

"Excellent, Theodore. Did anyone ever tell you that you make a great evil minion?" I compliment my able accountant. "All right, boys and girls. Let's do this. Give me the paperwork and show me where to sign. Cynthia, you can make the appropriate evil laughter noises in the background while you notarize everything. This should be fun."

Once we get all that paperwork completed, I dismiss Ted, say bye-bye to my legal-eagle, and ask Justin to come back in. The boy is again covered in paint - I really have to take the time to see what he and Jessica are up to on that VooDoo Doughnuts campaign and why it entails so much paint - but he's in a very good mood. Being covered in paint seems to do that for him and it makes me glad too.

"Hey, Sunshine," I start when he's seated next to Cynthia on the couch. "We've got some papers for you to sign. Now, don't start that worried, lip biting thing on me. This is all good stuff - easy stuff - so no worries. Okay?"

He shrugs noncommittally making me shake my head at how difficult every little thing is for him. No matter how much progress he seems to be making, there's still a ways to go. I hope we'll get there.

"First, as an employee you are now covered by the company's health insurance plan. I think Ted's got all that paperwork for you down in his office. But, just as important, I wanted you to have a valid Power of Attorney on file," I show him the document as I speak.

"See, if you got hurt or sick again, your parents, as next of kin, would have the right to make medical decisions for you if you couldn't make them yourself for some reason. Now that you're going to have proper ID and all, it's a lot more likely that a hospital would be able to locate your parents in that circumstance. Regardless of whether or not you decide to meet with your mother, I don't think you would want her, let alone Craig, making decisions about your care. I know, I don't."

"My father? He could find me?" Justin is ready to bolt - half standing and looking around as if Craig were hiding nearby.

Shit. Justin apparently didn't hear anything I said other than that Craig might be able to find him. I didn't mean to scare him like this. I instantly move over to the couch and sit next to him, holding him tightly. I can feel him shaking.

"Justin, stop. It's okay. Craig isn't here. He can't get to you here. Shhh, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you, Sunshine," I whisper, at the same time waving at Cynthia to leave us for a few moments.

"Listen to me, Justin. Are you listening," I demand his attention.

"Yes. I'm listening," he finally says.

"You can stop him, Justin. With that paper. That's all it takes," I reassure him, feeling the trembling abate slightly. "If you sign that Power of Attorney, appointing someone else to make the decisions, then you take away any rights Craig might have regarding you. That's why I want you to do this as soon as possible, Sunshine. I want you to be protected. I don't want you to have to be scared. Do you understand?"

"I can stop him? Keep him away from me?"

"Yes. You just have to choose someone else to be in charge of decisions like your health care, you fill in that person's name on these documents and sign them. Okay? That's all it takes."

"Who? Who do I choose?"

"Whoever you want, Justin. Just make it anyone other than Craig."

"I don't have anyone."

"You have me, Justin. You always have me," I say with a kiss on his forehead to emphasize my point. "You don't have to pick me, though. I don't want you to feel obligated in any way. You could ask someone else or even put in there that you want a court to appoint someone. It's completely your decision. And whatever you choose will be right for you."

"You would do that? You'd take care of me again if I was sick?"

"Of course I would. After all, you weren't that bad of a patient the first time around," I tease, happily getting a tiny half-smile out of him. "I'd be happy to do this. But only if you're sure that's what you want, Justin. I don't want you to ever again feel like anyone's taking away your rights to make your own decisions. Not even me."

"I want it to be you, Brian," he says quietly but with conviction. "You're the only person who's ever helped me - the only one I . . . I trust. I want you, Brian."

"Well, then, you've got me. Let's get Cynthia back in here and get this done, okay?"

"Okay."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian scared the shit out of me with that Power of Attorney thing. Here I am, just starting to feel like I'm not going to disappear again, like maybe I have a place to belong, here with Brian, and then he tells me that my father could still find me and take control of me if I got sick again? I rather be back on the street, invisible again, than have him anywhere near me.

But when I calm down enough to listen to him, Brian reassures me that that's the whole reason for the Power of Attorney - to stop my father from being able to hurt me again. And, even better, Brian says he'll be the one to take care of me. I can't believe he went to all this trouble to get his lawyer to make up this paper just to protect me. I DO trust him - more than anyone else I've ever known. So we fill in Brian's name and I sign and Cynthia stamps it with her notary stamp. Brian says its official now and he'll file it . . . somewhere.

I just hope I don't get hurt or sick again. If that paper doesn't work . . If he ever . . . I'll never go back with my father, ever. I won't. I don't want to have to test it to be sure it works.

After work, Brian says he's tired and just wants to order in tonight and take it easy. I'm okay with that - he can take it easy with me, or hard, or any way he wants. He says that wasn't exactly what he meant, but he doesn't seem to mind fucking me in the shower either. However, I think maybe even Brian may need a night off once in a while, so I agree to snuggle with him on the couch while he watches one of those old movies he likes.

Since he knows that I'd rather be riding him than watching some old guy ride a dusty old horse, Brian also gives me something else to distract me, which I have to admit does the job. Brian sets up an email account for me and shows me how to email and text from my new phone. My first text is to Daphne, who sends a message right back. We chat that way all night until Brian is finally ready to head to bed.

'L8R. 6Y BOYF ready 2 F me! SETE! ;D Jus'. I send my last text then close up my phone and jog into the bedroom after Brian.

"So what in the world do you and Daphne have to talk about that you could spend the whole night texting over?" Brian asks as I shuck off my clothes and crawl under the covers with him.

"Mostly we just texted about you. I was telling her what a huge cock you have and what I like you to do to me with it," I tease him, kissing him on the shoulder and then up along his collar bone, heading towards his sweet raspberry red lips.

"Oh. Well, that's okay. As long as you weren't being inappropriate or disclosing any really private stuff about us," Brian teases back.

"I didn't really thank you for finding Daphne for me, Brian. You do so much for me. You found my long lost friend. You gave me this phone with all the amazing things it does. You even got your lawyer to make up those papers for me to try to protect me. I want to show you how much all of that means to me, Brian. Tell me, how can I thank you for all that. Hmmm?"

By this point I've crawled up him and I'm sitting astride his legs, leaning down to punctuate my words with little kisses all over his chest and neck and jawline. I love the salty sweet taste of him. I really could probably do this all day, if I didn't have to get out of bed. But, I notice Brian looking at me with this odd look on his face. It's as if I am some strange puzzle he's trying to solve.

"Justin, I'm curious," Brian starts off cautiously. "Aren't you even the littlest bit sore after the past three days? We've fucked, I lost count how many times, and I have to admit my dick is pretty fucking sore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining at all, Sunshine. But, I figure if I'm this sore and tired, your hot little ass has to be pretty raw too. Don't you need, maybe, a bit of a break?"

"Well, yeah, I'm a little sore, too, I guess. But, you've been so great to me, I just want you to know how grateful I am. So, if you want to fuck some more, I'm okay," I tell him.

"Justin. I've told you already. You don't owe me anything - especially not sex. I don't expect you to put out just to show your appreciation. I do expect you to say 'no' if you're sore or even if you're just plain not in the mood," he tells me, his tone sincere. "You are not just some sex toy. You do get a say in when YOU want to have sex, you know."

"There are other ways you can show me if you're grateful - it doesn't always have to involve sex, you know," Brian continues. "Fuck - did I just say that? The point is, Justin, I don't want you to think that just because you're living here, you have to have sex with me all the time merely to prove how appreciative you are. Okay? Just give yourself a break. We can fuck if you really want to, but it's okay if you don't, too."

So what am I supposed to read into that little speech? I feel a bit rejected. I was just trying to show him how much he means to me and he acts like he doesn't want me? But, I get that he's being sincere, I can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. It just doesn't make sense, though. He can't really mean it that he wouldn't care if I said 'no' to him. Why would I ever tell him 'no'?

I flop back onto my back on the bed in frustration. I really don't understand. Will I ever get this right?

"Justin," Brian props himself up on his elbow to look down at me. "Tell me this - is your ass sore?"

"Yeah," I answer with a shrug.

"But you still really want to have sex? I mean, you really just want to fuck for the joy of if, not just to show me you're grateful for getting you a fucking IPhone?"

That requires a little more thought. I've never really had to analyze my motives like this before. Do I want Brian to fuck me just for the fuck or for some other reason. Hmmm?

"I don't know. I enjoy when you fuck me - a lot, Brian. I think I mostly just like being with you and I want to always feel like that. So, I guess, I really do just want the fuck?"

Brian takes a minute to think that over. He's scrutinizing my face, his eyes boring into mine like he's trying to read the fucking 'Rosetta Stone'. Finally he shrugs, reaches to the night stand and grabs the lube and a condom, and then tosses them to me with a shrug as he rolls over to his stomach.

"Well, then, have at it. But, let's give your sore ass and my sore dick a break, okay. You'll have to drive for a change, Sunshine," Brian says into the scrunched up pillow under his chin. "Just go slow, okay. I . . . I haven't done this in a while."

Fuck! He's not really saying what I think he's saying, is he? But he must be serious - he's shoving a second pillow under his hips and spreading his legs apart. Getting himself ready for me. For ME.

"Brian," I swallow to clear the lump of almost panic that's risen in my throat, "I've never . . . I don't know how."

"Bullshit. I know you've never - but it's not like you don't know what to do, Sunshine. Just do what feels good. Take it slow. And I'll let you know if there's anything I need," Brian directs, tempting me by raising his ass a little higher and winking at me over his shoulder. Then he adds, in true AdMan style, "this offer ends soon. So don't miss out on your chance to be one of the elite few who can say they've topped Brian Kinney."

He picks up the tube of lubricant which I'd dropped on the bed, and deliberately places it in my hand. "Use lots," he adds then turns back to contemplating his pillow.

I can't say the idea isn't stimulating. Seeing Brian lying there displayed for me is almost too much. My dick has never been this hard in my entire fucking life. Can I really do this? I soooo want to do this. I just want to be sure I do it right.

I start off by just reaching out my hand to touch what I see. I lightly trail my fingers down his toned back, feeling his muscles ripple at my touch.

His smooth buttocks are next and I get a tiny thrill when he clenches his muscles at my mere touch. As I move over to kneel between his legs, spread wide in welcome, I feel my dick leaking in avid anticipation. What the fuck!

First thing, I know I want to taste him. He'd done that to me the first night in the hotel, which had surprised me. I never rimmed with clients back when I was on the street. Frankly, me eating any of their asses - the idea disgusted me considering what a lot of my clients had been like. Plus, having them rim me put me in too vulnerable a position - not safe in that particular profession. But with Brian, things were different. I wanted this with him.

So I gently pulled apart his cheeks and dipped down for a tentative first taste. I slid my tongue down his crack and let it brush over his remarkably tiny pucker. He flinched a bit when he felt the wetness and then shivered when my breath blew across the places where my tongue had been. Trying to emulate what he'd done to me the other night, I licked and nibbled lightly over the tightly folded skin, feeling Brian slowly relax.

Then I finally felt brave enough to dart my tongue into him and was temporarily amazed at the strength of those constricting muscles. I waited again until another wave of relaxation came and Brian started to open to me. I kept licking and sucking at the rim, while my tongue entered deeply into that warm, welcoming entrance. Brian tried at first to keep himself still, but it wasn't long till his hips began to buck at the pleasure.

I knew that was my signal to move on. So, I carefully slid the condom on my stiff, eager dick and moved up to position myself better. I squirted out a generous amount of lube onto my fingers and closed my eyes for greater concentration as I slipped first one and then two fingers into Brian's seldom exercised hole, working to make him as ready as I could. Conscious of Brian's earlier admonition, I added more lube two of three times as I fingered him - just to be sure, you know.

"I think that's good enough for now, Justin," Brian comments as I start to pick up the lube once more. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Come on, Sunshine. Fuck me, already."

"Here goes," I sigh. Using my hand to line things up, I slowly start to slide into Brian's tight, warm opening. It feels exquisite. He's warm and tight and wet with lube and I slide in slowly and so easily. He takes only a brief second to adjust and then taps me on the hip to tell me to continue.

I grab onto his hips - to guide myself or merely to hold on - I'm not sure which. I pull out slightly and push back in one time, feeling the electric jolts of pleasure ripple along my cock. Then, some ancient primal instinct takes over and I'm no longer having to think about what I'm doing. I'm just doing and it's amazing how wonderful this feels. Shit. This truly is what it's all about and I'd had no idea up till now.

I'm happily, mindlessly ramming away when Brian shifts his weight a fraction and I can all of a sudden tell that now he's getting much more out of this as well. I make myself a mental note about that angle for future reference and then plow on, trying my best to hit Brian's prostate as I go. When I feel the build up of electric current tingling through my balls and realize I'm getting close, I reach under Brian's body to fist his cock.

"Brian, I'm ready. I'm going to cum. Ohhhhh, Brian. Cum with me, Brian. Cum. Now. Aaaahhhhh!"

Brian shoots into my hand seconds after I cum and the both of us crumple together in a heap on the pile of pillows and rumpled blankets. I want to just lie here forever without moving. I'm not even sure I can move - it's possible that all my bones have melted. Plus, moving would mean separating from Brian and I don't want to ever do that. If we could stay connected like this forever, it would suit me perfectly.

So I just lie there like an exhausted jellyfish until I feel Brian trembling under me. I'm concerned something is wrong - why is Brian shaking. Is he hurt? Did I do something wrong. I immediately pull out and rush to roll Brian over to find out what's the matter.

But, Brian isn't hurt, the jerk - he's laughing.

"What the fuck, Brian? I know I'm probably not the world's biggest expert at this yet, but you don't have to laugh at me," I'm angry now, the bliss of a moment ago almost completely gone.

"No, Sunshine," Brian hurries to explain, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "I'm not laughing at you. Fuck, no. I was laughing at myself for being such a ridiculous ass for so long. See, I've been such a fucking uber-top for so long, I kind of forgot how amazing it feels to bottom. That was fucking fantastic, Justin, and I was just laughing at myself for fighting it for so long. You were great, Justin. Really. Sorry for freaking you out."

Brian rolls over to wrap himself around me and pulls the blankets over us both. He's still all wet and sticky but neither of us seems to care. He kisses my ear and whispers, "Thank you, Sunshine." And then we both fall asleep.

Brian's arms surround me all night. The connection is still there and I hope it will stay forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say - I'm a sap for the Topsy!Justin. Especially in this context where he needs it to become a more complete person. Hope you all enjoyed as well. TAG


	29. Ensnared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's heading for a trap. Brian's already been captured by Justin - that's a given. But now Justin might just be trapped into having to deal with his mother before he's ready. And, Craig is walking into his own, very personalized trap. Just look at little old me - the Spider, luring them all into my web of traps. He he he. I love doing the evil laughter thing. TAG

Chapter 29 - Ensnared.

Ensnared: To be caught; to have been lured into a trap or snare.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"We got the incorporation papers filed with the Secretary of State this morning, Bri. You are now the sole shareholder of TelePhonix, a lovely shell corporation with no assets, no other shareholders and no actual business opportunities," Ted informs me. "Now, what exactly are we doing with this useless company?"

"We are going to be the sole North American wholesaler for the brand new Hikaroshi Smart Phone," I inform him.

"What? Hikaroshi? Isn't that the company that came to us last month? Didn't you send them packing? The due diligence I did showed they were going to be sued by Apple any day now for multiple patent violations. If you refused to do their advertising, why the hell would you want to invest in the company?"

"I'm not going to invest a penny in the company. I'm just going to drum up a retailer who will agree to invest big bucks for the exclusive North American marketing rights to the new Hikaroshi 'Cyborg' smartphone. Of course, if I'm right about this particular retailer, he's too greedy to bother with any due diligence. As long as we move fast enough, we should be able to get a signed commitment before the patent infringement suit is filed. Then . . . well, if all goes as I hope, one particular retailer will be SOL."

"Oh. I get it. That's . . . that's fucking brilliant, Brian. But, aren't you setting yourself up for some significant liability when the shit hits the fan? I mean, we both know this phone is just a cheap knockoff and Apple will eventually win their suit. You don't want to be in the middle of that firestorm when it hits, Brian."

"That's why I'm trusting in you, Theodore, to make sure you and my lawyers got all the paperwork done right," I'm adamant with my accountant, friend and employee. "If you did your jobs right, TelePhonix should have no overt connections to Kinnetik or me and when the whole deal goes belly up, well, the only entity with any assets in the U.S. will be the poor retailer."

"Well, the incorporation documents are pretty standard. From a financial standpoint you should be fine. All your personal assets have been protected for a long time prior to this, so no one can claim fraudulent transfers of assets at this point. And Kinnetik is definitely solid. I can't speak to the legal side of things, but I'm fairly confident on the financial side, Bri," Ted reassures me.

"As long as you've done what you were supposed to do, Theodore, I know we'll be fine. Now, get back to your real work and send in Cynthia," I shoo Ted out so I can proceed with my next step.

"You've got a meeting at three thirty today with Craig Taylor, owner and CEO of Taylor Electronics, dba, Big Boyz Stores," Cynthia says as she bustles into my office. "By the way, that was way too easy. His secretary is useless. I'm guessing she's skinny, blonde and has a bigger bra size than her IQ. If you do get to meet her you have to IM me her photo so I can see what this trollop looks like, Brian," Cynthia opines as she bounces into my office with the piles of papers I have to sign this morning - fuck, I love her overly competent soul.

"Excellent. Cynthia, remind me again, next week, to give you another raise. You've definitely earned it."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Jessica and I have been working on our new proposal all morning. We're pretty much done now and we just have to run it by the head of the art department first before we take the idea to Brian. I hope he likes it. It's been fun working with Jessica. I enjoyed exchanging ideas with her and then doing the actual work together. This 'job' thing isn't half bad. It hasn't even been two full weeks and I already feel like I kind of fit in here. Weird, huh?

Brian doesn't have time to stop for lunch today, he says. I'm just starting to feel strange about it and wonder what I'll do for that whole hour alone, when Ted comes downstairs and asks if I want to join him and Emmett for lunch at the Diner.

I've never gone to lunch with anyone except Brian before so I'm a little hesitant. I put my hands in the pockets of my pants and start to withdraw as I normally would, but then I feel my new bank card in my pants' pocket. That little piece of plastic gives me just enough confidence that I actually change my mind and tell Ted yes, that I'd love to join him and Emmett for lunch.

And it goes really, really well, too. Deb is working and just asks if I want my usual - to which I nod - so I don't have to actually even try to order. Em and Ted spend most of the time gossiping about people I don't even know, so I don't feel obligated to join in the conversation. When they do ask me questions or include me in the conversation, I'm able to answer and it feels almost natural.

Then, about halfway through lunch I get a text from Daphne telling me to check my email. So I do and that email gets me a little concerned.

'Jus. I think I just screwed up. Sorry. Your mother just called me to give me the great news that you'd surfaced again and were okay. I let slip that I'd seen you. I didn't know you hadn't talked to her yet. She knows now that I know where and how to find you. I DIDN'T tell her where you are, but I got the impression she's going to try to find you herself, soon. I'm really, really sorry if I messed things up for you. Call me later, please, and let me know you're okay. Daph.'

Shit. I'd been putting off thinking about whether or not to talk to my mother. But now it looks like I'm going to have to make that decision. Only, I don't yet know what I want. I wish Brian weren't so busy - I would really like to talk to him about this. Maybe I should call him?

While I'm still contemplating what to do about my mother, the bell over the entrance door of the Diner dings and several people come in at once. I'm not really paying attention - I'm trying to figure out where I tap on my phone to forward a copy of Daphne's email on to Brian, which I know can be done, but I can't remember how. Then I hear a familiar voice which causes me to freeze.

"Hi there. Remember me?," the voice says from the counter area. "I'm Jennifer Taylor. I was here the other day with your son, Brian Kinney? I know he said he'd tell Justin I wanted to see him, but I still haven't heard from my son. I was hoping that you might know something and would help me. Please. Mother to mother? I just want a chance to talk to Justin and to make sure he's alright."

From my seat in the last booth with my back to the door, I look surreptitiously over at the counter and see a petite, well-dressed blonde woman seated at the counter talking to Debbie. Deb doesn't look directly at me, but I know she sees me looking at her. I shake my head, telling her that 'no', I'm not ready for this yet. She gives me a very small, almost unnoticeable nod. She quickly writes something on her order pad and hands it to Kiki telling the other waitress to 'take care of this' for her. Then, Deb turns to address my mother.

"Jennifer, I thought Brian was clear that it was Justin's decision whether or not he wanted to contact you. I understand that as his mother you are concerned about him. I'm a mother too and I'd feel the same way about my son. But, not only is Justin an adult now, who has the right to choose for himself, from what I understand about the situation, he also has a lot of reasons not to trust you. So I think you're gonna have to just back the fuck off and let your son make his decision in peace," Debbie is saying to the woman seated with her back to the booth where I'm sitting.

Meanwhile, Kiki comes over to our booth and sets the sheet Deb tore out of her order pad on the table top. It says, 'Kiki, take this to Ted and Em's table.' Then there's a horizontal line and below the line it reads, 'Justin, Go out the back through the kitchen door. I'll keep her attention on me. Deb.'

I don't think either Ted or Emmett know what's going on. But to their credit, they follow Deb's advice perfectly - ushering me ahead of them out through the back, with the very tall and robust Kiki further shielding our retreat with her person. We're out the back door in no time and halfway down the block before they stop me to ask what that was all about.

"That was my mother," I explain to Ted and Em. "She's looking for me - you know, the missing person flyers? But I don't know if I want to . . ."

"Oh, Sweetie," Emmett gushes, enveloping me in a huge hug. "Say no more. We understand, don't we Teddy. That was quick thinking on Deb's part. Come on, Baby. We'll get you back to work safe and sound. If you want to talk about it later, though, I'm here for you."

Fuck. Now what do I do?

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I hope Justin's okay. Ted told me what happened at the Diner today. But I've been so busy with one meeting right after another that I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet. Fuck, I shouldn't have met Jennifer at the Diner in the first place. I didn't expect her to come back there. Shit. Well, thank Debbie for her quick thinking. I really need to talk to Justin though and make sure he's dealing with this alright. This meeting is too important though to put off, so Justin will have to wait till later.

When I show up at the brand new flagship store for Big Boyz I'm utterly unimpressed. First of all, this place is way the hell out in the burbs. Then there's the fact that it's in the ugliest kind of strip mall - random different sized big box stores all smashed together with no architectural design whatsoever in the middle of acres of barren asphalt parking lot. And, probably the worst sin of all, their advertising sucks - its dull, uninspired, utilitarian and everything else I hate about crappy advertising. It's no wonder Ted's info showed the business was on the edge of ruin.

I walk in and ask the first clerk I see to take me to the office. I'm directed through a small, unmarked door in the rear of the store. The offices themselves are just as ugly as the rest of the building. So, I guess it's pretty clear that Craig Taylor has no fucking taste whatsoever. I can definitely use that info to my advantage.

Just then I see a petite blond woman with absolutely huge knockers - obviously surgically enhanced - scuttling my direction. I pretend to be looking at something on my phone while I snap a quick photo for Cynthia. She's gonna love how right she was about this 'trollop'. Then the trollop is upon me and it's time to put on my 'Smarmy Salesman' personae and sell these tasteless uneducated suburbanites the metaphorical Brooklyn Bridge.

"Can I help you?" Blondie's voice is high pitched and nasal and secretly makes my skin crawl.

"You already have, beautiful, just by being alive," I say with the Kinney charm on full blast.

"Oh my," Tittsy McGee titters at me, eating up the compliment and fawning all over me - I feel like I need a hot shower already.

"If you wanted to be extra special wonderful, though, you could point me towards Craig Taylor. I'm supposed to be meeting with him, although I'm not sure I want to leave you alone that long. You promise me that you'll wait for me, sweetheart?" I say, laying it on extra schmoopy.

Rule #1 of sales: Always sell to the secretaries and support staff just as hard as you do the target because they're usually far more influential than you'd think.

"Craig's office is the big one over there," Tittsy tells me and points the way with her ample chest. "Oh, I guess I'm supposed to have got your name first and asked if you had an appointment. You do, doncha?"

"Yes, I do have an appointment," I answer as I pull out my platinum card case and hand her one of the new TelePhonix cards Cynthia had made in less than an hour for me at Kinko's. "And my name is Brian, but you can call me anything you want just so long as you DO call me."

"I'd love to, Brian," Tittsy says, taking the card, batting her lashes at me and 'accidentally' rubbing one of her huge tits against my arm - I feel so filthy and have to stop myself from visibly shuddering at her touch. "Let me show you to Craig's office, honey. This way."

Titts sways her gargantuan rack across the room towards the closed office door that she'd indicated earlier belonged to my target. Through the glass panel beside the door, I can see a largish dirty blond man sitting behind a big, cluttered desk, his chair tipped back and his feet up, resting on the edge of a partly opened drawer. The secretary knocks on the door then opens it without waiting for a response. She announces me to her boss and then smiles at me while I cross in front of her and walk sideways through the door, all the while trying to avoid touching the fake boobs practically blocking the way. I give her one last wink as I pass, then she closes the door behind me and it's showtime for real.

"Craig Taylor? I'm Brian Kinney, CEO of TelePhonix. Thanks for meeting with me today," I march up to the man at the desk and seize his hand in a power grip handshake - the kind this type of idiot feels is necessary to prove just how manly you really are.

"Mr. Kinney. Nice to meet you. How can I help you?" Taylor responds as he sits back down behind his desk.

"Well, the first thing you can do is call me Brian. Mr. Kinney was my father and he's dead so you don't want to make that mistake," I tell him, forcing a jovial fake laugh as I speak. "The second thing, Craig - I can call you Craig, can't I, since I already feel like we're going to be friends - the second thing is that you can tell me what you're planning on doing with all the buckets of money you could be making by this time next year if this deal I'm putting together goes through."

Craig Taylor stands up and walks around the desk to 'size me up' at this point. I take the opportunity to do likewise. I estimate that he's just under six feet tall. He's about fifty and looks every year of it. His features are heavier boned than his son's but I can see some of the same lines there - the same jawline, same cheekbones. But, otherwise I see very little resemblance between this bulky middle aged man and my own delicate, slender blond. Justin obviously takes after his mother, thank whatever gods might be out there.

"I'm listening, Mr. Kinney," Craig says, deliberately calling me by my last name in an obvious power play move, as he stands defiantly in front of me. "But you can toss the hard sell tactics. They don't work on me."

'Yeah, right', I think, as I already see the greed glint in his cloudy grey-blue eyes. "No hard sell here, Craig. Just a man who's running out of time to get this deal put together. I mean, can you imagine where you'd be today if you'd been in on the ground floor when the iPhone was introduced? Well, we could be in pretty much the same place right now. This new generation of smartphones is gonna make the iPhone obsolete in five years."

I hand him one of the sample phones I still had from when Kinnetik had been thinking about taking on Hikaroshi as a client. They're actually pretty nice looking, sturdy feeling phones with much larger screens than the iPhone. If you only saw the phones and didn't dig a little deeper into the company, you'd probably think this was a brilliant business move. Cue Craig Taylor.

"I have less than a week to finalize my plans, Craig. This phone is amazing. Its twice as fast as the iPhone with two times the memory and it costs a tenth of the price to manufacture thanks to Hikaroshi's chinese and korean factories. But,TelePhonix will lose its exclusive wholesaling rights if I don't sign some retailers fast. So, what do you say, Craig? Is Taylor Electronics ready to step up into the big leagues and become the exclusive North American retailer for the 'Cyborg'?"

As I watch Craig Taylor looking at the phone in his hands, pushing buttons and checking out all the preloaded apps, I know he's already sold. If I didn't feel like strangling the man every time I look at him, I could even let myself relax a bit. But I know that if I don't keep a tight rein on my anger, instead of shaking this monster's hand to seal the deal, I'll be slamming my fist into his face just like good old Jack taught me. I'm doing this for Justin, though, so I keep my cool, keep the mask in place and try not to let my disgust show when Craig offers to once again shake my hand.

I leave suburbia two hours later with a verbal commitment from Taylor that will give Taylor Electronics exclusive retailing rights for two years. The contract with Hikaroshi will be financed by TelePhonix and secured by practically everything Craig Taylor owns - his business, all business assets, even the couple of pieces of real property he owns. He'll have to take out a second mortgage on his home to swing his cash buy in requirements, but I couldn't care less about that. What I want are his businesses. Once I have those assets all tied up, safe and sound, there'll be plenty of time to go after his personal assets.

By the time I'm through with him, Craig Taylor should have just as few assets to his name as Justin Taylor had when I first met him.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian calls to tell me that he's asked Ted to drive me back to the loft. He says he's stuck in traffic somewhere out in the 'hells of suburbia'. But, in spite of the traffic, Brian sounds like he's in a good mood. He says he wants to go out to celebrate and tells me to put on something to wear to the club because we're going dancing tonight. I don't know if I'm excited or terrified by that idea. But as long as I'm with Brian, I guess it doesn't matter.

I head up to Ted's office as soon as I get off the phone with Brian. Ted is just getting ready to leave. We head out but we have to pick up Emmett on the way, of course. And, unfortunately, Emmett wants to talk about my mother and what happened at lunch. I don't really want to talk about it but how do you stop Emmett from talking?

In the end I just tell him that I wasn't sure I was ready to see her, is all, and I need a little more time. Em is sympathetic and goes on to tell some story about his childhood that he feels is somehow applicable. I don't really listen but it takes up the rest of the car ride without my having to say much, so that's good.

As I'm getting out of the car at the loft, I make the mistake of telling them that I'm going to have to go figure out what to wear out to the club tonight. Emmett immediately pops out of the car, citing a 'Fashion Emergengy', and follows me upstairs so he can go through my entire wardrobe - which he already knows since he bought it all for me - until he finds the perfect outfit which he says will bring out my eyes. Luckily, Brian shows up after I've had to try on only about five outfits and shoos Em and Ted out telling them we'll meet them at Woody's later.

Then, Brian engulfs me in his arms and makes up for the fact that I haven't seen him in almost nine hours by kissing me thoroughly until we're both a little breathless. I guess missing Brian all day isn't so bad if I get this reaction when I finally do get to see him. He seems a little needy tonight - like he maybe missed me a little today too, which kinda makes me smile.

"Ick! I stink like those suburban cretin I had to be around all afternoon, Sunshine," he tells me when we finally break apart enough for words. "let me get a shower and then I was thinking Italian for dinner? How does that sound to you?"

"Okay," I say, as I follow him towards the bathroom, "but, only if I get to join you in the shower."

"I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more, Sunshine," Brian says, waggling his eyebrows at me in an uncharacteristically playful manner. "I'll even wash your back . . . side for you."

And he does. Brian takes the bar of soap as soon as we get in the shower and carefully lathers every millimeter of my skin, moving his hands in small circles starting with my back and shoulders and arms. Then he pulls my back against his chest and moves on to soaping my chest and stomach, then down my sides to my hips and thighs. Next he kneels and keeps going with my legs down my calves and he even carefully washes and rinses my feet. Finally, Brian stands back up and tenderly tips my head back onto his shoulder and washes my hair for me. It seems like such a simple thing, but I've never experienced anything so intimate in my life - the way this man cares for me is the most erotic thing imaginable.

When I'm satisfactorily clean, and Brian has had sufficient time rutting against my well soaped ass, he fishes a condom out of the basket that is suction cupped to the wall next to the soap dish. He gently pushes me against the glass wall of the shower. I hear the condom packaging ripping.

"Was one night off enough for your sweet little ass, Sunshine?" Brian murmurs into my ear, his hard cock already rubbing against my crack.

"Yes, Brian. I want you. Please," I manage to moan back.

"Ohhh, Sunshine. You're the perfect cure for a long tedious day of work, you know that?" Brian asks as he slides his dick home into me. "You're all I was thinking about all afternoon. I just wanted to get back home to you and fuck you. You're so damned addictive."

Brian is more than usually talkative tonight. Usually he's all business when it comes to his pleasure - like he's too intent on his task to need or even want conversation. But tonight, he's practically chatty.

"Ohhh. You feel so good, Justin. You're so tight and hot. I always want to be balls deep in you. All the fucking time, Justin," his words act as a counterpoint, matching to the rhythm of his thrusts. "Even now, when I'm inside you, I still want you more. I want all of you. I'll. Never. Get. Enough. Ahhhhh."

Brian obviously needed that pretty badly - he came so fast. I was so distracted by his words that I hadn't even really been concentrating on the sex. But, no worries - Brian doesn't stop even though he's already come. He's still hard and he's still plowing into my ass. He's going to just keep going till I cum, too, it seems. Fuck he's good.

"I know I was too fast, Sunshine," he's still muttering into my ear. "It's your fault though - you're just too fucking hot. But now it's your turn. Tell me how you want it, Justin. What do you want? I want to make you scream it's so good, so tell me what to do. Tell me, Justin."

"Mmmm, Brian," is really all I can think to say at first.

"Tell. Me." Brian demands.

"Harder, Brian. I want it harder," I answer him.

Brian compliantly grabs my hips for leverage and starts slamming into me harder with each thrust. I try to push back using my hands to brace myself against the shower wall. Every time he enters me I can feel him deeper inside me and I want him even more. Each time he pulls out I almost want to cry at my loss. Images of Brian are swimming in my head. He fills me physically as well as suffusing all my senses. And, all the while he keeps slamming into me hard, hard, hard, hard . . .

Then suddenly it's enough and a wave of pure bliss crashes over me, slamming me against the shower wall as effectively as Brian had been before. "Briannnnn!" I yell out his name. He holds me up when I'm done or I would fall to my knees. All I can do now is pant and shake and wait till my legs work again.

"I've got you," Brian whispers to me. "You're so beautiful, Sunshine. You're fucking perfect. And you're mine. I always want to make you scream my name like that, Justin. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh. Schmoopy ending but so very sappy nice. I'm going to go take a little siesta and reread my own chapter and . . . . you know. . . enjoy it. See you all later. TAG


	30. Discord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You knew things couldn't keep going that smoothly, didn't you? Nothing is that easy with our boys. Unfortunately. Really, what did Brian think would happen if he took Justin out to Babylon? . . . . You'll see. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 30 - Discord.

Discord: Tension or strife resulting from a lack of agreement between people.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

It’s comedy night at Woody’s. When we get there the androgynous looking guy on the stage is doing his own version of Monty Python’s, The Penis Song. It’s hilarious to start with, but once you let the fags at it, what with the number of additional names we have for our dicks, it becomes almost too much. I think that Ted’s about to wet his pants, he’s laughing so hard. And Emmett actually fell off his chair while I watched. Then, again, who doesn’t like a good cock joke.

Monty Python's, The Penis Song

Justin seems a bit nervous tonight. We’ve been out to Woody’s once before together, and it didn’t turn out that well. But he’s doing so much better and I thought it would be okay. I really need to blow off some steam tonight - dealing with Craig Taylor was distasteful and the only way I can think of to get that bad taste out of my mouth, other than what I already did to Justin earlier in the shower that is, is to spend the night with a room full of queers all being as unconventional as possible. I need this. I just hope that Justin can deal. 

After a Beam and a couple of beers, I’m starting to relax a bit and Justin seems to be enjoying himself too. The Penis Song guy has been replaced by someone doing a standup routine that reminds me a lot of Jim Carey at his best. His routine is all about going on little ‘vacations’ - aka having orgasms - it’s amazing how he can make those facial expressions. Even I’m laughing my ass off at this guy. Only thing is that now I’m going to be self-conscious about how I look when I’m cuming next time I’m in the back room at Babylon. Fuck - I don’t want to have THAT expression on my face at the time. 

At eleven I roust the troops and we all head over to Babylon. Emmett even called Michael while we were at Woody's and got him to drag the professor out for the night, so it means the whole gang is there. I'm looking forward to this. I realize that I haven't been to the club since the night before I brought Justin home. To be honest, I haven't really missed it that much. It feels odd to say that even to myself because I've pretty much lived at that club for the past five or six years. But I have had plenty to occupy me these past couple weeks, so I guess I didn't have time to miss it. Anyways, we're back now, and I'm definitely in the mood to party.

I don't even wait to get a drink before I drag Justin with me out to the dance floor. That thumpa thumpa is already in my bloodstream and I need to dance. Justin looks so hot in that skimpy baby blue tee he's wearing and those tight black jeans. I see right off that I'm not the only one ogling his perfect bubble butt in those revealing jeans and I know I'm going to have my hands full keeping an eye on him. The sharks are out tonight and he's the freshest meat in the ocean.

"Watching you two dancing out there was the hottest thing I've seen since Teddy gave up his porn site, Baby," is the first thing out of Emmy Lou's mouth when Justin and I get back to the bar, and he immediately envelopes Justin in an Emmett sized hug. "I'm so glad you finally brought Justin out to play with us, Bri. We were beginning to think you were just going to keep him all holed up there in your loft forever."

"Watch it, Honeycutt," I say, peeling his hands off of Justin. "Keep your hands and your comments to yourself."

"Oooh, jealous much, Brian? And, don't call me Honeycutt."

"Careful, Em. He's not kidding," Mikey has to add. "You should have seen him at the Diner the other day when Harry Michaels was hitting on the kid. Even Harry knew that he needed to back away slowly or lose a couple appendages. It was pretty hilarious."

"Fuck that," I tell them. "That butch and I are old buddies. He might look like a big beefy top, but . . . Let's just say I know how to get him to back off. And he's definitely NOT Justin's type."

Fuck them, I decide. Let em think what they want. If I want to put my arms around Justin, I will, and who the fuck cares if they think I'm doing it out of jealousy. I just want to . . . Fuck it, I want to keep him away from all the other goddamned predators here tonight. If that counts as being jealous, then so be it.

The bigger problem right now isn't that people, my friends included, think I'm acting jealous, it's that all this talking about and thinking about Justin with anyone else is making me fucking horny. And Justin isn't helping much by clinging to me like a vine. I can feel his nice sized package all bundled up in those tight jeans pressing up against my thigh right now and it's driving me wild. Especially since I know so well how truly fucking nice that package is and exactly how good he is at using it. I'm thinking it might be time to introduce the boy to the backroom.

"Justin," I speak to him as quietly as I can over the music. "I want you, now. I can't wait for later tonight. Come with me."

I start to walk towards the back, towing him after me. I'm sure he knows what I meant, even if he's never been to this club before. That's part of Justin's charm - in some ways he's incredibly naive, especially about mundane everyday things that you and I would take for granted, but in other ways, including sex, he's just as savvy, if not moreso than I am. I don't think a trip to the backroom of Babylon will phase him nearly as much as getting his first paycheck did.

And I'm right. He doesn't even blink when I walk him into the backroom, lean against an unoccupied section of wall and gently push him to his knees in front of me. He's all business right from the start. He unzips me, pops my dick out and has me deep throated before you could even count to ten. I feel slightly bad about this in a vague way for about ten seconds, but I don't have time to figure out what it is about this that's bothering me before I'm too blissed out to care.

Shit. Justin is so fucking good at this, too. Those pouty full lips aren't just a beauty statement. He knows exactly what to do with them. As a rule I don't like to be too vocal when I'm with someone in the backroom - basically, I find it obnoxious and downright rude - but, I sort of forget about that this time and when Justin snakes his hand up between my legs, sticking two fingers up my ass and bringing me to orgasm with his talented tongue at the same time, I cant help but groan loudly. There might have even been a, 'Fuck, yes, Sunshine', too. But, I will never admit to the 'Oh, God, yes!' that some said they heard - first of all, I don't even believe in any god, and secondly, I'd never be that fucking demonstrative in public. It had to have been someone else.

Justin's wearing a smug little smile when I pull him up to kiss him after he's finished. It gets even bigger when the applause and the catcalls start. Fuck. If he wasn't shark bait before, he definitely will be once word gets around about that performance. I think I just made things worse. Time to get him out of here.

Back at the bar, Michael immediately corners me about some inane comic book thing. I don't have the heart to tell him how totally boring he is. While I'm being regaled by the latest heroic deeds of the spandex enhanced, Emmett takes Justin back out to the dance floor. Good, I think, it'll keep the boy busy.

Michael's chatter isn't quite enough to keep my mind occupied though. And, when an incredibly hot, tall brunet with smoky half-veiled bedroom eyes leans up against the bar next to me, I'm pretty easily distracted. He gives me this little crooked smile and licks his lips, then gets up, trailing his index finger down my bicep and turning so he's walking backwards away from me in the direction of the backroom. Who the fuck am I to turn down such a polite invitation?

Bedroom eyes guy turns out to be a very eager bottom boy who's itching to get fucked. I'm only halfway across the room before he's got his pants down and is waggling his ass at me insistently. I'm kind of annoyed by this for some reason, but since I'm already here I figure what the fuck. I quickly put on a condom and some lube, not bothering to prep him much, and get down to business. I realize pretty quick that he's not that great - he's way too loose and far too noisy and he has this twangy voice that grates on my ears. I wish I hadn't followed him back here. I'm not even sure I want to finish, but then I look around at all the eyes on me and I resign myself to just finish as quickly as possible and get as far as I fucking can from the guy.

I manage to get off, barely, with no thanks to annoying wailing guy, and rush to get myself zipped back up and get back out to my friends. I have this itchy need to check on Justin - just to make sure he's okay, I tell myself. Justin isn't hard to check up on though, since he meets me in the doorway to the backroom. There's some big old steroid gym bunny pressed up against my blond from behind and he's pushing Justin through the doorway towards an empty spot on the far wall.

"Hey, Brian," he says as he passes me, completely unconcerned with what's happening here.

"What the FUCK!" I'm yelling as I pull the gym bunny around, separating him from Justin in the process. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Get your hands off me, fuckwad," the guy yells back, both of us unconcerned with the crowd we're drawing. "Get your own twink. This one's mine."

"Like fuck he is. Let's go, Justin," I order, trying to wrap my arm around his shoulders to guide him away, but Justin simply shakes me off.

"Why?" Justin asks with all due sincerity. "I wanna fuck too, Brian. You came back here with that dark haired skank so I thought you wouldn't care if I did the same."

"It's not the same, Justin. Let's just go. I don't want to have this conversation here. We'll talk about this at home. Come on!"

I'm trying to whisper what I'm saying so that the entire population of Babylon's backroom - and by reason of the gay grapevine, every queer in Pittsburgh - doesn't hear what I'm saying. Justin is more than just reluctant to leave though. The gym bunny seems ready to intervene now, too, as if he thinks I need to get my hands off Justin. This is so fucked.

"Why isn't it the same? Tell me now, Brian," Justin demands.

"Because it's not!" I hiss at the angry little blond. "I wasn't going to let him fuck me, first of all."

"Oh. So it's okay if I fuck him then? Fine. I'm okay with that. What about blow jobs. Can I give him one or is it only okay if I'm receiving?" Justin asks, still with no attempt to keep his voice down.

"No. It's not okay, Justin! None of this is okay," I fume at him, and I'm not trying to be quiet anymore either - the mere thought of Justin fucking anyone else making me insanely angry.

"Well, please explain it to me, then, Brian. I'm not as naive as you seem to think. All you have to do is explain to me exactly what the ground rules are here and I'll be fine. But I don't understand why you get to fuck anyone you want and I don't. So please, explain it to me, Brian!" Justin is yelling now, like the crazy, angry, unquenchable Justin I've only seen once myself and I don't think anyone else has ever seen.

"Um, Justin, sweetie? I think maybe you need to take a little break and cool down, honey," Emmett's there standing next to Justin now with his large long-fingered hands resting steadily on Justin's heaving shoulders. "Come on, Baby. Let's go get a drink and we'll all calm down a bit before we say things we're gonna regret."

Emmett leads Justin back out towards the bar while I stand there watching. My vision seems all hazy and red tinted for some reason and I realize my fists are balled up at my sides and I'm practically panting with rage. The gym bunny guy is still standing there but he's backed up a few paces as if to give me room in case I explode.

Everyone else from the backroom, including a couple of club security guards, is gathered in a large semi-circle around me, apparently fascinated by the spectacle but not willing to get too close in case I bite or something. Fuck them all. When I feel a hand on my arm, I pivot around, ready to confront whoever dared to touch me, only to find Michael standing there patiently waiting for me to calm down.

"Come on, Brian," he says to me in a quiet, steadying voice. "Let's go get a drink."

What the fuck just happened here?

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I wish Emmett would just shut the fuck up. He's standing next to me at the bar babbling so much I can't think straight. I'm still angry as hell but I don't really know why and I have no one to yell at anymore which is just making me more angry still. I also still don't know where Brian is and that's freaking me out. What the fuck just happened?

Emmett hands me a glass full of something, which I chug down before I realize it's basically straight vodka. That at least distracts me from being angry, at least while I'm choking and sputtering trying to catch my breath. And, when I'm done, I see that Brian and Michael are there at the far end of the bar, the sight of Him flooding me with relief. I immediately start to go to Him, but Emmett holds me back.

"Whoa there, Baby. Better give the 'Big Bad' a few minutes to cool off first," Emmett cautions me. "I've never seen Brian quite that pissed off before, Sweetie. You were pushing all his buttons and he's gonna need a minimum of two Beams, according to my estimations, before he's fully human again. You don't want to try to talk to him when he's like this, honey."

Now I'm not angry anymore. Now I'm scared shitless. What have I done? Why did I do that to Him? He's going to hate me now. What am I going to do?

"Hey, Sweetie, what's wrong now?" Emmett asks once he sees the tears streaming down my face, but I'm too panicked to figure out how to answer him.

The anger seems to have been the only thing holding me upright and now that it's gone I simply crumple to the sticky beer covered floor in front of the bar. I wish I could scream or yell or even say something to let all the fear and dread inside me out, but I can't even open my mouth. That big hole inside me that I thought was maybe starting to heal a little is torn wide open again. I feel like its so obvious that I should be actually physically bleeding from the wounds, but I'm not, at least not on the outside.

I'm lost again. I'm going to disappear and this time there won't be anyone to find me and put me back together. It's my own fucking fault though.

First I go and let Him in. I knew it was stupid and I'd get hurt, but I couldn't help it - I think maybe I loved Him. And then, I go and drive him away. It's just like my father taught me - never trust anyone because they'll hurt you. Only, this time, the person I started to trust was myself and I'm the one who caused all my own pain. So I guess I deserve it.

But what will I do now without Him? I can't live without Him? I can't - I don't want to. I won't. I just won't. It's not worth trying again. I'll just give up and let it end this time. It's too hard anyways. Yes. If I don't fight it anymore it'll be much easier. I'll just let it end. . .

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"Brian, you just need to calm down, okay. I know the little shit pissed you off, but you can't go confront him like this. Just have another drink," Mikey thinks he's being helpful but he's really just pissing me off even more.

"Michael, listen to me. Are you listening?" I say, demanding his attention.

"Yes, Brian, I'm listening."

"I'm okay. I just need to go talk to Justin. And, don't fucking call him a little shit, you hear me? Now please, just back off," I tell him bluntly, then turn to look down at the far end of the bar where I know Emmett was standing with Justin.

But, I don't see either of them there anymore. What I do see is some kind of commotion - there's a knot of people standing around looking at something on the floor. And as I watch, two of the club security guards hustle over to the area - it looks like they're trying to move people away to clear a space. What the fuck? I have a bad feeling about this.

I rush over to the site and try to push my way through the crowd but it's fucking impossible. Then I see Ben stand up close to the center of the commotion. It looks like he'd been kneeling down on the floor but now he's standing and looking around, searching for something.

"Ben!" I shout loud enough to be heard over the music and the commotion.

Ben looks relieved as soon as he sees me. He uses his bulk and muscles to shove aside the nearest elements of the gaping crowd and he reaches for my hand to pull me through the rest of the throng. I practically have to crawl over a couple of the intervening bodies but I finally make it.

"It's Justin," Ben informs me right off. "Emmett said that he just collapsed. I think it might just be a panic attack, but with all this mess it's hard to tell. I'll help security to move all these people away, then you can to get him out of here, Brian."

"Thanks, Ben," is all I have time to say as Ben strongarms his way through to the approaching security guys.

At my feet, Justin is huddled in a tiny ball, with Emmett hovering nervously over him. Fuck. What a fucking nightmare. I'm paralyzed for a moment by the sight - the thought of something happening to Justin is just too much to handle. But then, what Ben said finally penetrates my confusion.

I pull Emmett to his feet and demand an explanation - which is, of course, useless. Em has no more of an idea what is wrong than Ben had. So I simply shove him aside as well and kneel down and take Justin into my arms.

Justin's strangely quiet. I'd expected shaking, crying, something. But there's none of that. Justin is simply staring into space past my right shoulder. He isn't saying anything and there are no tears, just drying tracks where prior tears were never wiped away. His body is limp and unresisting. His skin is clammy and cool to the touch and it looks sort of blotchy. As I press him against my body more tightly I can feel that his pulse is racing a mile a minute. His breathing seems uneven and shallow.

I need to get him out of here - where the fuck are Ben and those security fucks? It feels like I've been sitting here holding Justin forever and I just need him to be okay. It's probably only been seconds, though. But I need to get him somewhere safe NOW.

Finally, I hear Ben's voice ordering people to move out of the way. Two other voices echo what Ben said and within minutes I can see an opening through the crowd. I immediately get to my feet, lifting Justin's unresisting body in my arms. Thankfully, Ben is in front of me leading the way while the two club guys follow me closely, keeping people back. Ben leads me to what appears to be an office and closes the door behind us once we're inside.

I lay Justin down on a couch against the far wall. Ben is standing behind me looking over my shoulder. After a couple of moments, Ben returns to the door, opens it and says something to the person standing outside, then he closes the door again and returns to me.

"I think he's in shock. We need to keep him warm and get some fluids in him," Ben says with authority. "The security guard is going to find us a blanket or something and some water. In the meantime, I suggest you try to keep him warm with just body heat, Brian."

I sit on the couch next to Justin and pull him into my arms again. He feels so cold. I try chafing my hands along his bare arms to generate some friction but it's not doing much. Ben is doing the same with Justin's legs. I'm not even wearing a jacket that I can use to wrap him up with. Fuck, what is taking that security fuck so long?

"Come on, Justin. Don't do this to me, Sunshine," I keep talking to him just like I do when he has those nightmares, even though I have no idea if it will help. "You're scaring the shit out of me, so please stop, okay? Come on, now. It's going to be alright. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Fuck I'm so sorry, Sunshine. but please don't do this to me. . ."

Ben answers the knock on the door and takes the blanket and bottles of water that the security guy gives him. He says something else to the guard quickly before he brings the stuff to me. We carefully wrap the blanket around Justin's still cool body and then Ben cracks open one of the waters and trickles some into Justin's mouth. I don't think he actually swallows it though.

When I look up again, I see that Ted, Em and Michael have joined us in the room. They're standing together on the far side of the room looking as scared and useless as I feel but saying nothing. The way they're hovering is fucking annoying - its like they're attending a goddamned wake or something - but I don't have any attention to  
spare for them so I just let them stand and stare.

"Now what, Ben?" I ask the only person here who seems to know what to do. "It's not working. What do I do now?"

"I don't know, Brian," he answers honestly. "Just get him warm and, if you can, get him to drink more liquids to help get his blood pressure up. If he doesn't start to come around soon, we'll have to take him to the hospital. They can push fluids better using an IV then we can. I think, though, from what I saw and from what you told me, Em, that this is just a panic attack. I can't be sure. Assuming it is, though, all we can do is wait."

So I wait. I hold Justin, keeping him warm, and I wait for my Sunshine to come back to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about ending on such a discordant note. The tension and strife are rampant, aren't they. That's what happens when Brian's dick takes over instead of his other head. And, I have to leave you with a horrible cliff hanger because I have to get down to school to register for next term and do all sorts of annoying errands. So, you're left with a Justin in full panic attack mode and a guilty worried Brian. Sorry. I'll try to update soon so you're not left worrying for too long. TAG


	31. Fallacious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very angsty resolution to the last cliffhanger I left you with. I'm not sure how well you will like it. I expect to see LOTS of 'Poor Justin' comments. Can't wait to see how you all like this one. TAG

Chapter 31 - Fallacious.

Fallacious: Containing fundamental errors in reasoning tending to lead one into error.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Someone's crying, I think. I can feel the moisture from the tears on my face and I feel a very quiet sob every so often - so quiet that you can't actually hear it, only I feel it against my skin. I don't think it's me crying. I don't feel sad. I only feel numb. I vaguely wonder who it is.

I realize that there's someone talking, too. I think the talking has been going on for a while. I'm only just hearing it now, though. Whoever is talking is also very upset, so that couldn't be me either. I kinda recognize the voice though and it begins to worry me a little so I start to listen to the words.

"Please don't do this to me, Justin. Please. You have to come back to me. Please, Sunshine. I know I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm so fucking sorry. I should never have left you alone in the first place. I'm just an idiot. I wasn't thinking. And then, when I saw you with that other guy I completely lost it, Sunshine. But I'm sorry and we can work on this, okay. Just come back to me. Please. . . "

Brian. That was Brian's voice talking. I think it's Brian crying, too. That seems wrong, though. Brian shouldn't be crying. Why is Brian crying? I had been sitting here perfectly fine and numb, but now I'm worried because Brian shouldn't be crying. I'm going to have to find out why Brian is so upset.

I try to focus on what I see around me but it's all hazy. My head hurts - another migraine. That would explain my vision being blurry. I don't recognize where I'm at, though. It's not Brian's loft, that's for sure. This is very strange. One good thing - it's dark in here which helps with my headache a bit. But I don't like not knowing where I'm at.

I try to move my hand, my arm, so I can rub my eyes and help myself focus, but I can't. My hands are trapped by something - something is wrapped around me. I really would like to get my hands free but it doesn't seem like it's worth the effort. I'm so very tired. If I didn't need to find out what was wrong with Brian I'd just let myself sleep. But, he's still talking and crying and I need to help him, so I fight the urge to sleep.

"Brian?" The name comes out as barely a whisper and I'm not sure anyone even hears me at first.

"Sunshine? You're back. Thank you." I hear Brian say finally. I can feel his lips touching my temple. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Why are you crying, Brian?

"Because you scared the shit out of me, you little Twat. That's why," Brian says teasingly but with just a hint of real anger and fear. "How do you feel?"

"Headache."

"Brian, don't forget the water. He's probably dehydrated which would account for the headache," another voice says from somewhere behind me.

"Right. Here you go, Sunshine. Drink up," Brian says as he shifts me into a more upright position and hands me a bottle of water.

The movement finally frees up my hands which I can now use to wipe away the tears from Brian's face. I'm still not sure what's going on, though, or where we are. But I am thirsty so I drink the water Brian gives me. Then I look around to try again to figure out what's going on.

Ben, Michael, Ted and Emmett are all standing nearby looking down at Brian and me with concern. We're in some office, it looks like, but it's not someplace I recognize. In the background I can hear loud music playing.

That's what finally brings it all back to me - the music. We're still at the club. I was going to take a trick to the backroom to fuck but Brian didn't want me to. I yelled at him and made him so angry he didn't want to talk to me. Then I got scared that I'd ruined things and he'd want me to leave. I don't remember anything else.

Brian is still here though and I don't think he's angry at me anymore. Something must have happened. Something made Brian cry and got the others all worried. And something gave me this fucking headache. Do I want to know what it was?

Brian, I think you should get Justin home. It's late. You two probably both need some rest," Ben advises, reminding me how tired I am.

"I'll drive you and Justin to the loft, Bri. Ben and Michael can follow behind in your car and I'll take them home after," Ted suggests, seemingly glad to have some purpose.

"Thanks. Ready, Sunshine?" Brian says looking at me.

"Hmmmm?" I still feel all hazy and insubstantial - it's hard to focus on what people are saying, so I opt for just letting them take charge.

"I'll take that as a yes," Brian says, still obviously upset but trying to humor me it seems. "Can you walk, or do you want help?"

"Walk."

"Okay. Let's get out of here, then," Brian asserts and helps me to my feet.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Justin still seems so out of it even after we get home. He seems confused and I'm half convinced that I really should have taken him to the hospital after all. That’s when Ben pipes up and explains that panic attacks generally cause hyperventilation which results in low blood oxygen levels and causes dizziness and confusion. Thank you professor know-it-all. But, really, it’s good to have Zen Ben around - I wouldn’t have known what to do tonight without him.

As the gang all file out, I help Justin up to the bedroom, pull his clothes off and help him into bed. Then I run to the bathroom and grab the bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. Justin takes six aspirin and swallows them in one gulp, then falls back heavily against the pillows. All I can do is hover - I’m still so fucking worried. I don’t think these panic attacks and flashbacks will ever get easier to deal with. Especially not when I’m the one causing them.

What the fuck was I thinking? Justin’s already had a lifetime of unreasonable fuckers yelling at him and what do I go and do in front of a crowd of people at a packed bar - I yell at him and make him feel bad about himself and. . . . and cause him to have another panic attack. I’m such a fucking asshole sometimes. 

“Brian?” Justin’s voice breaks through my internal ranting of self-accusation and guilt. “Don’t be angry at me, please. I’m sorry I yelled at you and embarrassed you at the club. I’m really sorry. Don’t make me leave. Please.”

“Fuck, Justin. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself for causing all this,” I tell him right away. “I’m the fucker who ruined everything. I’m the one who was yelling at you, Sunshine, and I know better. You should be angry at ME.”

“I just got so pissed off when I saw you with that guy,” I try to explain. “I know it’s not fair and it makes no sense. I mean, I was in there with a trick myself. But when I saw him with his hands on you, I could barely stop myself from slamming my fist into his smarmy face. And, when I thought about you fucking him, I . . . I just lost it completely, Sunshine. I don’t think I can handle that - ever.”

“I guess Brian Kinney does do jealous after all. In fact, I was so fucking jealous tonight I wasn’t thinking straight. I keep doing these things to make your panic attacks and flashbacks worse and I feel like shit about it, Justin. I wish I knew how to help you and not make it worse,” I’m almost sobbing again at this point. “But, please don’t think I ever want you to leave. I don’t. Ever. Just . . . please put up with me a little longer and I’ll try to figure this out and do whatever I have to so I don’t keep hurting you. Okay. Please. Just give me another chance.”

“Brian, stop!” Justin interrupts me. “I’m so tired and my head is killing me. Can’t we figure out who to be angry at in the morning? Let’s just sleep now, okay?”

So we sleep. I pull my Sunshine tight against me and hold him till I’m sure he’s sound asleep and then I tell him all the things that I wish I could say when he was awake. There are words like ‘adorable’ and ‘sweet’ used. I might even have mentioned some words that aren’t typically in my vocabulary like ‘love’ and ‘forever’ and maybe even a couple words that start with ‘m’ that I usually don’t even let myself acknowledge as a possibility in my own head. But, it’s okay since he’s asleep and can’t hear me and I’m going to forget I said all this by morning. And, when I’ve let all those annoying sentimental thoughts out, I finally can sleep too.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I still have a bit of a fucking headache when the alarm goes off in the morning. Panic attacks do not mix well with alcohol apparently. Actually, nothing goes well with a panic attack.

Fuck! I'm so embarrassed about all that last night. First pulling that shit on Brian with the trick and then whatever the fuck I did afterwards. I still didn't really remember much. I'd heard the guys commenting a little in the car on the ride home last night - I collapsed at the bar and Brian and Ben had to carry me out of there up to the club office, where I remained catatonic for almost two hours, effectively scaring the shit out of everyone.

 

I feel so foolish. I realize now that I'd had more to drink than I should have. I never would have gone with that guy to the backroom in the first place if I hadn't been drunk. I was being silly and sentimental and I'd totally read more into my deal with Brian than I should have. I was just overreacting to watching Brian take that skanky trick back there. Watching that, combined with the alcohol, all together made me fucking crazy it seems.

And now that I think about it, I don't know why I got so upset about the trick in the first place. Brian never promised me anything. When he asked me to stay here with him he never once said anything about it being a relationship or anything like that. I knew from the start what he was like - his friends told me practically from day one that Brian would fuck anything with a dick. I'd seen him myself that time at the Diner. I've seen all the guys hitting on him there and at Woody's.

Why did I think that just because I was finally able to get it up and he'd finally fucked me that he'd be giving up all the rest? How fucking naive could I be? How pathetic. Justin's a jealous little faggot with all sorts of stupid romantic ideas. I should have known better. Brian likes to fuck, that's a given. So he wants me here to fuck when he's home. But when he's out, he's got a lot of other choices and there's no reason he'd choose me exclusively.

And it shouldn't surprise me that he doesn't want me fucking around on him. I mean, he's taking care of me, giving me a place to stay, giving me money, a job, clothing, everything. He's done everything for me. I'm bought and paid for, right? I'm his and he has every right to keep me to himself if he wants, right? I just didn't see it like that before. Like I said, stupid, naive, pathetic. I was fucking slow on the pickup this time, but I get it now.

And now everything makes a lot more sense, too. All along I've been struggling with the question of why Brian would do all these things for me. Nobody does all the crap he's done out of the sheer goodness of his heart. But I've been a street hustler so long that I didn't even think about the possibility of Brian wanting a more long term arrangement. He doesn't want a rent boy - he wants a mistress. Or whatever the hell you call the gay equivalent of a mistress. Instead of a short term rental, it's more like a multiple year lease with an option to buy.

I'm okay with that. It makes a lot of sense from the standpoint of a busy guy like Brian. He gets a convenient, semi-permanent fuck. I get a great place to live for an indefinite period of time. He's given me these great clothes and other expensive gifts like the phone. I'm getting paid a ridiculously large sum of money for my services - of course he disguises it as a 'job' at his company, probably for tax purposes or something. And, I get to be fucked by a pretty decent guy on a regular basis. I just need to keep in mind that I'm his property now and I'll be fine. Its actually a pretty great deal. I really don't want to leave - I still want to be with Brian no matter how I have to work it.

As long as I don't get too emotionally involved it'll be fine.

Brian is starting to wake up now. He's as hard as usual in the morning and his hands are already roaming. Time to earn my keep. I roll over and present to him, using a pillow to help position my ass at the perfect level. I can tell he's interested since it takes him not more than a couple seconds to get on his knees behind me, get a condom on and find the lube. He preps me quickly and then without further ado he's happily buried in my ass, pumping along at a rapid pace, well on his way.

I'm trying to act enthusiastic. I know that's part of my job - have to make the John think he's the best fuck ever in the history of dicks no matter what you're really feeling, right? But, what with the hangover and the reaction to the panic attack and whatever else, I'm not really feeling it this morning. In fact I can't even maintain a good erection. I just hope Brian doesn't realize that - he's so weird about wanting me to get off too all the time. It's not going to happen today though. I just hope he finishes quickly so I can go shower and get some food - maybe that will help with the hangover.

Unfortunately, right before Brian reaches his climax, he reaches around to fist me and discovers that I'm limp as over cooked linguini. Shit. I knew he'd get weird. He actually stops in mid-fuck, pulls out and turns me around so he can look in my face.

"What's wrong, Justin," he demands.

What exactly do I say? I'm not in the mood? Your mistress is a bit too hungover to get it up today, Sugar? That's not going to go over with Brian. Fuck, he'll probably want to talk about it and everything. I DON'T want to talk. I just want a shower and breakfast and a little time to come to grips with the realization I've had about the nature of my new life. I'm sure that by tonight, or tomorrow at the latest, I'll be able to manufacture the appropriate amount of enthusiasm to satisfy even Brian Kinney. But I have to tell him something.

"Sorry, Brian. I feel kinda sick. I think maybe I ate something last night that doesn't agree with me," I lie through my fucking teeth. "Don't worry about me, though. I'll get something to eat and that should settle my stomach. But, you don't have to stop. You should finish. You're so close."

"Fuck that, Justin," Brian says, already removing the condom from his still hard dick. "I don't need to finish if you're not feeling well. Come on, Sunshine. Let's get you something to eat and see if that helps."

Brian proceeds to bustle about the loft, getting me breakfast and asking me a hundred times if I'm feeling better. After I've eaten, he puts me in the shower, alone, so I won't feel crowded, he says. He's being all solicitous and caring and generally annoying the hell out of me, but at least he hasn't demanded that we talk.

I really just want him to leave me alone for a while. I need some time to myself to readjust my expectations and purge myself of all these useless emotions that I mistakenly let take over my brain. I can't do that with him being all kind and caring. It's too distracting and confuses me.

But of course I don't say anything. Complaining is definitely NOT in a mistress' job description.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I know that there's more wrong with Justin than he's admitting to, but I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with whatever it is. I know I should sit him down and make him talk to me about what happened last night. But when it comes down to it, I'm a fucking coward. I hate talking about emotions and crap. I'm not ready to try and figure out why I acted the way I did or what I want out of this deal with Justin. And Justin seems pretty reluctant to talk too. So, coward that I am, I take the easy way out and let myself avoid the confrontation that I know has to happen eventually.

So we're both sort of cold and distant all the way in to the office. Justin immediately heads off to the art department without a glance back at me. And I have five phone messages, a conference call holding and a meeting afterwards, waiting for me before I even reach my desk. Justin will have to wait. Again.

By the time Ted scurries in between meetings, bringing all the TelePhonix paperwork for me to look over before it's couriered over to Craig Taylor for his signatures, I'm so swamped that I've managed to temporarily forget the Justin situation for the time being. Of course Ted immediately brings the topic up again.

"How's Justin holding up today, Brian? We were all pretty freaked about him last night. I saw him earlier this morning and he seems okay but . . . still a little off, maybe. Is he going to be alright?" Ted asks immediately upon entering my office.

"I don't know, Theodore. I seem to have let my medical license expire so I can't really make a valid diagnosis," I snark at him, letting my annoyance at myself be misdirected at him.

"Sorry, Bri. I didn't mean to pry. Just concerned is all. If you or Justin need anything, though, just say the word, okay," Ted responds.

"You can help me and Justin by making sure these get off to Taylor. I want the signed contracts back on my desk by Monday. And make sure he knows we demand first position on all the security filings. Any other secured lenders are going to have to subordinate to us or there's no deal. We may have to help him a bit on that one - do we have any contacts at First Penn? They'll have to be contacts you're willing to burn because after this deal goes down, the bank won't be very happy with us or with Taylor."

"No problem, Brian. I think I know just the guy over there. He's the biggest schmuck I've ever met. I have no idea how he made it to V.P. of a bank. But, I'm sure I can talk him into this deal without the usual due diligence delays."

"Fabulous, Theodore. Make it so. Once all the paperwork is signed, we just have to sit back and wait till the shit hits the fan and then watch while that fucker Taylor squirms."

"I hope this works, Brian," Ted worries. "If not, you've just set yourself up for a world of hurt and coughed out $100,000 for the privilege."

"It'll work, Ted. I got to spend all afternoon with Taylor yesterday and I'm fully satisfied that a more greedy, careless fuckup doesn't exist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you you'd all be giving me 'Poor Justin's. Brian hasn't yet felt the full repercussions of his actions yet but I expect to be getting some 'poor Brian's too in the upcoming chapters. Next up - there's a long weekend for the boys to us to try to work things out, but will they? You'll only know if you keep reading. TAG.


	32. Logic: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daphne to the Rescue! With her keen mind and sharp wit, Daphne Chanders can topple even the biggest load of Bulls**t! Watch her work, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 32 - Logic: Part I

Logic: The science involving the principles governing correct or reliable inference; a particular method of reasoning or argumentation.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

The caller ID on my phone says Daphne Chanders. I didn't figure I'd be hearing from her now that she and Justin were BFF texting buddies. But, I'm curious why she's calling so I hit the 'accept' icon and answer the call.

"What happened? Are Justin's email box and voice mail already full from all your wacky conversations about Gilligan?" I say instead of the standard 'hello' as I take the call.

"No, they're not," Daphne responds angrily. "In fact, Justin hasn't responded to my calls or texts all day except to cancel our pizza night tonight. I was so excited to just spend the evening hanging out with him after all this time and then, first thing this morning, I get an email saying that it was, I'm quoting here, 'a mistake for me to get involved with old friends again'. What the fuck does that mean, Brian? I've been trying to call him all morning but the calls all go right to voice mail and he doesn't return texts. What the hell happened to Justin?"

"Shit. I don't know what's wrong, Daphne. He had a bad episode last night and he's been acting sort of off all day. But he didn't say anything to me about canceling your plans for tonight."

"What do you mean 'episode'?" Daphne asks.

"Well, um, how much has Justin told you about what happened to him over the past few years?" I ask, not wanting to reveal any confidences.

"Nothing really. He acts like he doesn't want to talk about it so I haven't pushed.

"If he hasn't said anything then I really shouldn't . . ." I start to explain, but the adamant brunette interrupts.

"That's bullshit, Brian. Justin is my friend and I want to know what's wrong with him. I let someone else tell me once that I shouldn't worry about him and I should just let it go, and look what happened. I'm not letting this drop this time. So, fuck what you think I should or shouldn't know and start talking."

I really like this girl. She's exactly the kind of friend Justin needs. Maybe she's the kind of person I need too to help get through to Justin.

"Fine. According to my friend, Justin is suffering from PTSD because of the abuse he suffered as a child. Of course, that's just an educated guess by nonprofessionals since he's too frightened of doctors to get a real diagnosis. But, whatever it's called, the results are the same - he gets panic attacks, has these flashbacks and nightmares and generally just loses touch with reality sometimes. And last night he had a bad one . . . " I proceed to tell Daphne about what happened at the club and then a little bit about how he was acting this morning.

"Shit. I always hated Justin's father. He was so strict with Justin and he was pretty shitty to me a lot of the time too because of my mixed racial background. But I never thought he abused Justin that bad. I never saw bruises or marks or anything." Daphne wonders aloud. 

"It wasn't that kind of abuse. He didn't hit Justin. What he did was even worse in a lot of ways, the fucking monster. I . . . I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable telling you everything I know - which I'm sure isn't half of it - at least not without Justin's okay. But, basically, from what I know, I'd say Craig Taylor could have taught the torture squads at Guantanamo Bay a few things."

"Fuck. But, when we met for lunch the other day, Justin seemed okay. Maybe a little more reserved than he used to be but pretty much just like I remembered. And he acted like he was really glad to see me. Why doesn't he want to see me anymore? Why would he say it was a mistake to get involved with me? I don't understand."

"I don't either, Daphne. It has to have something to do with what happened last night, though. I feel responsible, in a way, for what happened but I haven't really had a chance to talk to Justin about it. Fuck it. I'll try to see if I can figure this out at lunch today. But, do me a favor, Daphne - just go ahead and come over tonight anyway, please. Maybe, if Justin won't talk to me, he'll at least talk to you."

"I'll be there, Brian," Daphne promises. "In the meantime, good luck. Oh, and Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for trying so hard to help him."

"I can't help it, Daphne. He's . . . He's special."

"Yeah. He is. See you at 6:30, Brian."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian wants to have lunch today. Fine. I think I've pretty much got my mind reset about everything and I should be able to do this. So, I grab my jacket when he comes into the art department and follow him out to his car. I've got what I think is a satisfactory smile fixed in place and Brian doesn't seem too concerned when he sees me, so I must be doing okay.

I'm surprised that Brian isn't heading to the Diner today. Instead he takes me to this fancy little bistro where we get a corner table out of the way in one quiet corner. I'm really not up to even trying to order anything myself so I don't even bother picking up my menu. I'll just let Brian take care of it - why bother.

"Sunshine, you've got me totally freaked out today," Brian admits as soon as the cute dark haired waiter leaves with Brian's order. "As much as I hate saying this, I think we need to talk. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it, please."

"There's nothing wrong, Brian," I tell him with my satisfactory small smile firmly in place. "I'm just tired today is all. I woke up with a headache and my stomach was a bit off and I'm still not feeling 100%. I really think it was something I ate yesterday. Well, that and I probably had too much to drink last night. I'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure."

"I wasn't talking about your stomach ache, Sunshine," Brian persists. "There's something else going on in that little blond brain. Tell me what is making all those hamster wheels turn."

"Brian, stop already," I try with the coy, flirty thing, letting my hand move to rest on his thigh underneath the crisp white linen tablecloth. "I'm fine. I just feel a little bad about this morning. I could make it up to you, you know. We probably have at least fifteen minutes till the food comes. Want to visit the little boys room with me and see how fast I can fix your little problem?"

"That's not going to fix the problem, Justin," Brian now sounds a little angry, which scares me a little - I'm obviously not doing a very good job here so I'd better ramp up my game.

"Fine. I'm game. Just tell me then what will fix you up. As long as we don't get arrested, I'll try anything," I say with my best sexy leer.

"Cut it out, Justin," Brian practically hisses at me. "I hate the little street hustler games you play to try to distract me. So, just stop already and be honest. Tell me what that panic attack was about last night and why you're acting so different this morning."

Shit. He's really too perceptive for his own good sometimes. But I'm not caving this time. I do NOT want to talk about this. Isn't this situation demeaning enough without my having to acknowledge it aloud? I'm not going to admit to him how stupid and naive I was and that I misconstrued what he'd said to mean more than he intended. I might just be a whore, but apparently now I'm a high class whore and as such I need to be a lot smarter. I'm not going to let him see how stupid I was being or tell him that I thought he was falling in love with me or that I was falling in love with him or . . . Or anything really. So I just sit back in my chair, cross my arms and wait to hear where he thinks he's taking this next.

After about a ten minute long, fruitless staring contest, Brian is the one who eventually caves. "Sunshine. Please don't do this. I know I shouldn't have yelled at you like that and embarrassed you, especially in front of a big crowd of people. I feel terrible for causing you to have that panic attack. I dont know what to do to make it up to you. Just talk to me, okay. If you just fucking tell me what's wrong I can try to fix it but if you won't talk to me I'll never be able to do anything."

That almost gets to me, you know. I'm about to open my mouth and start blurting every embarrassing stupid thing I'd been thinking, but luckily that's when the waiter comes back with our food. I sigh with relief and begin to dig into my pasta primavera, even though I'm not really hungry at all and every bite tastes like cardboard. Brian is glaring at me over his halibut steak, I can tell he doesn't really want to let this drop, but he gives up for the moment and let's me eat.

After the dishes are cleared, Brian grabs my hand and looks into my eyes for a long time before speaking. "Okay. I get that you don't want to talk right now - I hate talking most of the time too - but just tell me WHY you don't want to talk to me," Brian demands. "Is it because you're still too angry with me?"

"No, Brian. I'm not angry with you. You didn't do anything wrong. Really," I reassure him. "There's really nothing wrong. I'll be fine. I finally understand some things I didn't get before. I just need time to adjust my mindset is all. It's really nothing, so please don't worry. There's nothing to talk about."

And to prove my point I take the hand that's holding mine, pull it to my lips and kiss it tenderly. Brian has the saddest look on his face when I do that. I worry that maybe I'm not doing a good job and he's unhappy with me. But, I'm trying, really, I am. It's just going to take me a bit to get used to being a whore again after I'd started to think things had changed.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

He's not going to forgive me. I know he denies it but I can tell he's still angry. If not, he'd talk to me, right? Fuck, fuck, fuck. I think I'm going to lose him.

I'm so fucking upset after that shitty, frustrating lunch that I'm useless the rest of the day. All I do is piss off my staff, yelling at them for absolutely no reason, and waste time rereading copy proofs ten times over because I can't concentrate. I actually break into the minibar I keep stocked in my office at around four - something I haven't done in ages. But I'm just too worried and pissed off at myself for fucking everything up that I need a drink just to calm my nerves before I crack and start throwing random things at the walls.

By five I'm already pretty hammered. No way I should be driving home tonight. I wonder if Justin can drive - huh, the topic never came up before. Well, no biggie, if he can't we'll just call a cab. I remind myself to stop at the video store on the way home to pick up some movies. I haven't told Justin that Daphne is still coming over tonight. Fuck, I hope she's better at getting the boy to talk than I am.

When I ask, Justin tells me he can drive but never had a chance to get his license. So, I opt for a cab instead. We're standing together near the front doors waiting for the cab, neither of us saying anything, when I notice Justin doesn't have his sketch pad with him. He brings it almost everywhere lately, so when he doesn't have it, the fact is blatantly obvious.

"Where's your sketch pad, Sunshine? If you want to go run and get it, I'll hold the cab," I tell him, just as I spy the bright yellow car turn onto the street a block or two away.

"I don't need it," Justin says with an expressionless tone that makes me want to cry for some reason.

We make it back to the loft, with movies in hand, by just after six. Justin takes the movies over to the coffee table and just sits on the couch staring into space saying nothing. He's apparently waiting for me to give him directions. It's like he's one of those automatons that will move endlessly in any direction you set it towards but can't start of its own volition. I can't bear to watch him so I head directly to the bar and pour myself a tumbler full of scotch, downing about half in a single swig.

I'm watching the clock, desperate for 6:30 to get here. I really need help. Daphne has to be able to help, right? In the meantime, I can order the pizza and some sodas. Get things ready.

I ask Justin what kind of pizza he likes but all I get, of course, is a shrug. It's like he's not even trying anymore. He's back to the same sad scared boy I first brought here two weeks ago - he barely talks, he makes no decisions for himself, he waits for me to tell him what to do, where to go, he won't even look at me directly and the few times I've tried to touch him he flinched. This is so fucking bad. I'm so scared I'm ready to scream.

When the buzzer on the door goes off, I jump and almost do scream. But then I remember that buzzer means help is coming - I hope. I hit the release for the front door, not even bothering to confirm who it is. I'm waiting at the door and pull it open at the first tap.

Daphne is here. I hope this works.

"Hey, Brian," she greets me but then sees my worried expression and her own face falls. "Not good, huh?"

I shake my head and gesture her towards the couch where Justin is sitting exactly as he's been since we came in. He didn't even look up to see who was at the door. Thankfully, I don't have to say or do anything more - Daphne heads to the couch, taking over for the moment.

"Hey, Justin. So, what movies did you pick out for us?" Daphne says, standing in Justin's direct line of vision so he can't help but see her.

"Daphne? I sent an email telling you not to come. Didn't you get it?" Justin asks, his confusion evident.

"Yes. But I disagree that it's a mistake for you to get involved with me. So I ignored what you said and I'm here anyway." Daphne gets right to the point.

"You really shouldn't be here, Daph. You don't want to be friends with me. I'm not that kind of person anymore." Justin says, still with so little emotion that it's almost as if he were talking to the wall rather than a friend he's missed for five years.

"Sorry, Justin. You don't get to decide who I want to be friends with or not. Besides, you are exactly the kind of person I want as my friend so you're just going to have to deal with it. I'm not going anywhere. Now, tell me which movie you want to watch first." Daphne states emphatically as she plops down on the couch next to Justin, props her feet up on the coffee table and reaches over to peruse the titles of the movies I picked out.

"Daphne, you don't understand," Justin finally speaks up, still apparently trying to convince Daphne to leave. "I'm not a good person. Someone like you doesn't want to be friends with me. I'll drag you down."

"What the fuck are you talking about Justin? Of course you're a good person," Daphne disagrees immediately.

"You don't know who I am, who I've had to be to survive, Daphne. You don't know anything about me. I'm not a good person anymore. I'm not the kind of person you want as a friend," Justin repeats as if he's trying to explain something simple to a particularly dense child.

"What are you saying, Justin? Just spit it out. What horrible things have you done lately? Hmmm?" Daphne demands angrily, sitting up with her arms crossed and a determined glare on her face. "Have you become a serial killer? Joined the KKK? Do you maim and mutilate puppies? What? Cause I don't believe you when you say you're not a good person. Just tell me what it is you've done that's so fucking horrible that I wouldn't want to be your friend!"

Justin's face has gone blotchy red and he looks both angry and embarrassed. He stands up, his legs spread slightly, hands balled into fists at his sides. He looks like he's struggling with what he wants, or doesn't want to say.

"I'm a whore, Daphne. A street hustler. Rent boy. Whatever you want to call it. I sell my body to men. I let them fuck me for money. Or, if they prefer, I suck them off. It's actually not that bad a job really. I only have to pick up three or four tricks a week to make enough to pay for food and sometimes I even make enough to be able to afford a place to sleep. The hours are short and I don't have to pay taxes on my income."

"Of course, that was before I met Brian. Now I have a much better place to sleep at night and he's paying me a lot more money than I used to make on the streets. The hours are a bit longer, I'm basically on call 24/7, but it's worth it for the extra perks. And he's a lot better looking than my old Johns."

"But, I'm still a whore, you see. And you're going to be something real someday. A doctor. You don't want to be associating with common street whores like me. So you should go. Sooner would be better than later, in fact, because I've got a job to do and I'm sure Brian's going to want to fuck me soon seeing as I got a little distracted this morning and he didn't get off. You can see yourself out, right?" Justin finishes, throwing himself back down onto the couch and refusing to look at Daphne any further.

"Whoa! What the fuck are you saying, Justin?" his words have just now penetrated my whiskey addled brain and I'm angry now too. "Are you saying that I'm just another one of your Johns? That I'm keeping you here just for sex or something? Where the fuck did that idea come from, Justin?"

"Of course you're not 'just another John'. You're much better than most of my Johns and you've definitely been nicer to me, Brian," Justin says, turning to me and speaking in a more placating tone of voice. "I'm really happy here. You've been wonderful to me. I didn't mean to say anything derogatory towards you, Brian."

"But what? You're still just my whore? Is that what you're saying?" I'm livid with anger now, the whiskey coursing through my blood doing nothing to help calm me. "What the fuck, Justin. How many times do I have to explain this to you? What have I ever done to make you think that all you are to me is a whore?"

"Oh, come off it, Brian. You're not fooling anybody. And it's no big deal, really. I don't mind - I'm happy here and I like you. So you don't have to pretend that I'm anything more to you than a convenient in-home, long term fuck," Justin says matter of factly. "Besides, that's not the point I was trying to make. I was just trying to explain to Daphne why it's not a good idea for her to maintain the pretense of a friendship with me."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" both Daphne and I yell back at Justin at the same time, effectively silencing him, finally.

I'm about to start arguing again with the aggravating blond, when Daphne beats me to the punch. "Enh! Sit down, Brian. I'll handle this," she orders me, and she says it with such authority despite her youth and petite bearing that I don't even hesitate to comply. "And don't you say anything yet either, Justin. Both of you appear to be operating with severely faulty logic so I'm taking over as mediator here. You're both going to sit down, shut up and listen to me. Got it?"

"Okay. Justin, you first. When your father kicked you out of the house, what resources did you have?"

"Resources?"

"Yeah, resources - like money, credit cards, jewelry? What did you have to start with."

"Nothing. I had the clothes I was wearing and the $100 he gave me, which only lasted two or three days."

"Did you have any job skills or educational background that you could have used to get employment?"

"No. I didn't even get to finish my last year of high school. And I never was allowed to get a job - my father wanted to be able to keep an eye on me all the time."

"So, you were unexpectedly thrown out on the streets without appreciable assets or skills. But you still had to support yourself, right? You had to eat, find shelter, clothing and other necessities, correct?"

"Yeah. Unless I decided to just give up and die, which I thought about doing sometimes, too."

"But you didn't give up did you? You kept trying even though you had no reason to expect that things would get any better?" Daphne plows on with her train of logic, even when all she gets from Justin is a shrug. "And the only way you had to make money was by becoming a sex worker, is that correct? In other words, your only remaining asset was your body and you employed it to obtain the necessities you needed to survive?"

"I guess."

"Did you kill anyone in this process? Or did you irremediably harm any innocents? I'm not talking about ripping off a John for a few extra bucks or shoplifting something. I'm talking real moral crimes?"

"No."

"Of course you didn't. Because that's not the kind of person you are, Justin. So, if all you've done since you left home was support yourself using the only asset you owned and you committed no moral wrongs in the process, why do you think you're not a good person?"

"Because prostitution itself is bad," Justin's conclusion is pretty obvious to me.

"Who says?"

"What?"

"Who says prostitution is bad?" Daphne asks again.

"The church, my father, the government. It's a crime for fuck's sake," Justin answers.

"Would you say your father was a good person? The asshole who threw you out and forced you into the lifestyle we're examining here."

"God, no. He is a horrible person."

"I agree. Your father is a bad person so we can completely discount his opinion. Now, are you a religious person, Justin? Do you belong to a church or even regularly attend any religious services?"

"Fuck no. I hate that crap. I was subjected to that shit so much as a kid, I wouldn't go back there now if you paid me," Justin says adamantly.

"Fine. So why do you care about the opinion of a social institution to which you don't subscribe and for which you feel nothing but contempt? And, well, as for the government prohibitions against prostitution, can we all just agree that for the most part, the reasons behind those laws are based on the very religious prohibitions we just discounted? If so, I think they're equally without merit."

"So, if I can sum up, Justin, you did what you had to in order to survive, using the only asset you had at the time and you harmed no one in the process. And the only reason you think you were bad because you did this is because a man who we all agree is himself truly bad and morally corrupt said so. Do you see the problem with your logic there?"

"The bottom line, Justin, is that the only person who's saying you were 'bad' because of what you did is a lying evil prick and you're going to listen to him? Fuck that! I don't think you're a bad person. Brian doesn't think you're a bad person. Who are you going to believe - the two of us, who care about you and want to spend time with you, or some fucked up bastard who abused you and then threw you out on the streets in the first place," Daphne finishes.

"Justin. You are my friend, no matter what you've done, and I think you're a wonderful, kind, good person who deserves a second chance. I'm honored to be your friend. So quit trying to get rid of me already, okay?"

I can see Justin working through each step of logic that Daphne presents. His expression starts off set and stubborn, but as she speaks it becomes more trusting and sure. By the end, he's trying without success to hide a believing smile.

"I've changed my mind. A tuna sandwich, a case of nails and you!" Justin says with a hint of laughter in his voice when Daphne finishes.

"I still don't get the tuna sandwich thing, Jus," Daphne laughs back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't too heavy on the boring dialog for you. It has to be done though. These boys are just too stubborn to see that the pile of crap they're wallowing in is made by themselves. It takes someone like Daphne, from the outside, to point it out to them and then hand them the shovels they'll need to dig themselves out. And if you though what Daph did with Justin's faulty logic was amazing, just wait till you see what she does to Brian in Part II. TAG


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch Daphne take on the Big Bad Brian. See him cower in abject fear of her mighty powers of logic. Run! Hide, Brian. You are no match for . . . The Daphne! (Or for your own emotions, you big dolt!) Hope you enjoy! TAG

Chapter 32 - Logic: Part II

Logic: The science involving the principles governing correct or reliable inference; a particular method of reasoning or argumentation.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Jesus, Daphne is good! I'm surprised she's headed to med school instead of law school. She was always good at debating though. In fact, I bet she could argue Newton out of believing in gravity.

But, what she says does make sense. I shouldn't have to feel like I don't deserve her friendship because of the way I've lived the past few years. I see her point - I already know that my father is a liar so why would I believe anything he ever said. So, then it logically follows that I'm not a bad person and I deserve to have Daphne as a friend. I hope so, because she's the best friend anyone could ever have.

Now that she's finished with me, she turns her scary logic onto Brian. He's still sitting on the far end of the couch. He looks a little apprehensive like he's preparing to get eaten alive rather than just be talked at by a 5'4" tall girl.

"Okay Brian. Let's address your concerns. You're upset that Justin claims he's still just a sex worker by virtue of his living here with you. So is he?" Daphne asks bluntly.

"Fuck no! I've never demanded sex from him in return for living here or for any of the stuff I've given him. That's not what I want at all." Brian answers fervently.

"But you have offered to let Justin live here free of charge, and you've given him clothing and other expensive gifts, right? So can you see where someone with Justin's background could interpret this arrangement to be just a more elaborate version of what he's been doing for the past few years?" Daphne makes my point clearly.

"I guess, but that's not why I did all this, regardless of what you seem to think, Justin," Brian argues back, addressing me directly.

"Okay. So, what are your true motivations, then, Brian?"

"I just want to help you, Justin. I . . . " Brian hesitates.

"That doesn't make much sense, Brian. Sorry, but it's true. I mean, I can see someone donating money to a charity or giving money to a street beggar out of a sense of moral obligation to help someone less fortunate. But that's not you, Brian. And you certainly don't do all the rest of what you've done merely because you want to help a stranger. You don't ask someone to live with you for purely altruistic reasons. So what's the real reason, Brian? Why did you ask Justin to live with you?"

"Because I . . ." Brian starts to answer immediately but then doesn't seem to be able to say whatever it was he'd started to say. "I don't know why."

"Boy, you are stubborn, arent you?" Daphne says, shaking her head. "You just won't say it, Brian, will you? Fine. We'll approach this from a different angle."

Then Daphne turns to me again. "Justin, you said before that you're happy here and that Brian has been nice to you, right? What has he done that's been nice - apart from buying you things or offering to let you stay here, that is."

"He talks to me, asks me what I think about stuff. He took care of me when I wasn't feeling well. He holds me when I'm having nightmares or panic attacks. Stuff like that," I give Daphne some examples, although I quickly realize there are a lot more.

"Brian, you don't regularly do that kind of thing for other people, do you? You've never brought any other street kids into your home or let someone who was sick stay with you while you took care of them?"

"Fuck, no." Brian says flippantly.

"So why do you think he did these nice things for you, Justin? You would have given him sex without all the other nice stuff, right? You've already said that the offer to give you a place to stay and clothing and stuff was enough or he could have just paid you cash if all he wanted was a fuck, right?”

"Yeah, of course I would have. That's how I earn a living."

"So, Brian continues doing all these nice things for you, things he's never done for anyone else and that he doesn't have to do to get sex. But he does them for YOU. Why?"

"I don't know why he's being so nice. I . . . Well, I had started to think it was more, you know. That maybe Brian liked me or something, but I was wrong." I tell her hesitantly, getting nervous because we're getting into areas that are a bit dangerous now.

"What do you mean, you were wrong?" Daphne unerringly hits on the exact topic that scares me the most, the one I least want to talk about, but she has this way of making me talk anyway.

"I thought he was starting to like me more, you know . . . " I turn to look directly at Him now. "I mean, the date and the hotel and everything you've said to me the past few days, Brian. I thought maybe I meant more to you than . . . But, apparently I was wrong."

"Why, Justin? What happened to make you think Brian doesn't like you for more than just the sex?"

"He doesn't care about me like that. I'm just another trick he takes to the backroom with him. If he cared about me - if I was enough for him - he wouldn't have fucked that other trick in the backroom at the club last night. That's why I got so angry. But I know my place now and I won't make that mistake again."

There. I said it aloud. I've admitted my silly sentimental fantasies and they are now out there for everyone to ridicule. I hope Daphne's happy. I feel like shit and I can't even look at Brian now, I'm so embarrassed.

"Justin, it wasn't like that . . . " Brian starts to say, but he doesn't get far.

"You did WHAT?" Daphne explodes with anger at Brian. "How dare you? Here I am defending you, thinking that you're this nice caring guy who really loves Justin but is just too scared to say it. That Justin doesn't understand your motives because of his background. And instead I find out you're fucking around on him, right in his fucking face, apparently?"

"You don't understand. It's not like that," Brian defends himself. "We're not fucking lesbians who get married after the fifth date. We're fags. It's different. It doesn't mean anything."

"Bullshit. You're supposed to be human even if you are a fag, Brian. And you're telling me that you essentially rejected Justin by fucking some other guy right in front of him while a whole club full of people looked on, and that you don't understand why that might hurt him? Why he might think, after that, that he means nothing to you except as a convenient sex partner. You don't seriously expect me to buy that load of crap, do you?"

"But that's not . . . I didn't mean . . . Fuck, Justin, I didn't think . . ."

Brian Kinney, the epitome of suave, glib, charming AdMen everywhere is completely tongue tied and confounded by a 20 year old pre-med student. It's actually kind of funny really, watching him try to keep up with Daphne. I don't think he understands yet how completely outmatched he is. I almost feel sorry for him. I'm almost distracted enough that I don't feel as humiliated by this whole topic as I probably should.

"Exactly, you didn't think at all, did you?" Daphne keeps at him relentlessly. "You know what? Forget about it. I'm not going to even try to explain this to you - you're not ready for this, Brian."

Daphne turns back to me with a determined and slightly mischievous glint in her eye. "Justin, go get your clothes and stuff. You can come stay with me. I was totally wrong about him. Brian doesn't deserve you."

"Daph, that's not necessary. I don't . . ." I start to object to her demand that I leave Brian but she angles her body so that he can't see her face and she winks at me!

Daphne has some wicked plan up her tiny little sleeve! I remember that wink. We both got into a lot of trouble when we were younger and most of the time it started with that same wink. I have no idea what her plan is this time, but I trust her enough to play along and see where she's going with this.

"No, Justin. I think it is necessary," Daph continues. "If Brian really wanted you to stay, he wouldn't have acted like that towards you. You go get your stuff and come stay with me for now."

"Just wait one fucking minute!" Brian finally snaps. "Justin's not going anywhere. I invited you over here tonight to try and help me to get Justin to talk because I was worried about him. I didn't expect you to start lecturing me on what I should or shouldn't do to show Justin how much I care about him."

"I’m not lecturing you, Brian. Besides you wouldn't listen to me if I did. But you obviously don't care anything about Justin. So I think he should just cut his losses and come stay with me. That way you can get back to fucking your other random tricks. Come on, Justin, hurry up."

"I DON'T want Justin to leave. And I don't want to just fuck a bunch of random tricks. I want more. I want Justin."

"Oh. So you want Justin but you still want to fuck around too? Hmmm? What does Justin think about that? I mean, I know other people are okay with open relationships but I could never do it," Daphne looks at me and continues, "what do you say, Justin? Are you okay with an open relationship - the both of you fucking other people?"

"Sure. I guess. As long as I know what the rules are," I'm playing along now, hoping that Daphne has a better idea where this is going than I do. "That's kinda what we were arguing about last night. I'm okay with fucking other people but I don't think Brian wants other guys fucking me. We need to be clear what the rules are or it'll never work."

"That's true. So, what do you say, Brian? Is it okay if you both fuck other guys? And are you okay with other guys fucking Justin, or not?" Daphne proceeds unemotionally, as if she brokering some banking deal.

"NO! No, I'm not okay with any of it," Brian's so angry now that his face is ashen colored, the veins in his forehead are popping and I think I can even see veins in his teeth. "I'm NOT okay with other guys fucking you, Justin - I'm just not. And I don't want you fuckng anyone else either. I thought . . . Well, I thought that was . . . It was special. It was just ME and I . . . Fuck it! No, it's not okay for you to fuck other guys. It's not okay at all, damn it!"

Daphne turns then and starts to walk away from where Brian is standing and panting with his anger. She makes it look like she's merely thinking over what Brian's just said - perhaps pacing to help herself think more clearly - her hand brought up as if to maybe stroke her chin. But, as soon as her back is to Brian, and only I can see her face, I see that she's laughing. She's got this huge grin on her face from ear to ear and she's not stroking her chin in contemplation, she's holding her mouth, trying to keep the giggles in. I almost smile too but stop myself, not wanting to ruin her plan, whatever it is.

Before she reaches the end of the area where she's 'pacing', Daphne carefully wipes her face clear of all signs of her mirth. Then she turns back around and paces towards Brian - who's still fuming mad - slowly walking back to him.

"See, Brian, this just isn't going to work," Daphne tells him. "You can't have any kind of relationship, open or otherwise, if both people don't have equal rights. You'd basically be right back to the whole kept man thing that you just told me you don't want. So if you plan to keep fucking around but don't want Justin to do the same, it's never going to work. I think you should just give it up, Justin. Come on, I'll help you get your stuff together."

Daphne gives Brian a sad but sympathetic smile and then takes my shoulder to guide me away towards the bedroom. Brian can't see the little squeeze she gives my shoulder or hear the whispered, "wait for it. . . " We only get about five steps away, though, before Brian barrels over and grabs my other shoulder, spinning me around to look at him.

"Wait. Please, stop, Justin. Don't go," Brian pleads. "Can't we please try to work this out? I'm sorry I'm such an ass sometimes. But I don't want you to go."

He's standing so close to me now I can feel the heat of his body radiating towards me. He reaches up his hand to brush my hair back off my cheek and let's his fingers rest against my cheekbone. He's not angry anymore. He looks sad and scared.

"Justin. Don't go, Sunshine. I'll stop tricking at the clubs, okay? I didn't know how much it would hurt you. I really didn't ever stop to think. I've never done this before - been with someone like this in a . . . a relationship - fuck, I can barely even say the word. But I never meant to hurt you." his voice is so quiet now that I don't think even Daphne, who's standing just a few feet away, can hear him. "I can't bear to think of you leaving now. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy, Sunshine. Don't leave me."

I don't even have to try to answer. His hands slide up to cradle my face and he tenderly lowers his lips to mine leaving a long slow lingering kiss. And the first kiss is followed rapidly by more - light, barely-there kisses that send little electrical shivers down my spine. Each little kiss making me feel just a little bit less hollow and less empty.

"I'll try, Justin. I really will. Just don't go. Don't leave me. I can't bear the thought of you leaving." Brian whispers these things to me between kisses as his hands move lower, his arms encircling me and pulling me tighter against him.

*Ahhh Hmmm* Daphne clears her throat and eventually gets Brian's attention. "Just thought I'd better remind you I was still here before significant articles of clothing start coming off," Daphne teases. "I take it from how truly HOT that kiss was, that you two have resolved things? Does this mean you're not coming back to stay with me, Justin?"

"Thanks, Daph, but I think I'll stay," I answer.

"Good, because my roommate, September, would have killed me anyways," Daphne says and breaks out into a joyous peal of laughter. "So, which of these lame ass movies, which I'm assuming Brian picked out because nothing here has any animation at all, are we going to watch first? Hmm?"

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I've been manipulated by a master - and I couldn't care less.

Daphne is very, very good. If she wasn't set on med school, I'd hire her in a heartbeat. She would make a great ad exec - she could sell anything. I just hope she only uses her powers for good. Like keeping Justin here with me.

We spend the rest of the evening - after Daphne finishes with her minor psychological miracles - piled together on the couch watching the movies I'd picked up earlier. Daphne spends a significant portion of the time making fun of my movie selection skills, or lack thereof. Justin doesn't say much, but I can tell he's feeling better - he smiles at me and no longer flinches when I touch him. He also apparently has his appetite back, which is apparent from the fact that he and Daphne polish off almost an entire large pizza by themselves.

About eleven thirty we load into the Jeep and I drive all of us to get the children the ice cream their munches are demanding. Then, we drop Daphne off back at her dorm. She and Justin are standing apart talking quietly for several minutes before she comes over to me.

"Don't fuck up, Brian. I'm not going to waste my time saving your ass a second time," Daphne says as she extends up on her tip toes and wraps her arms around my neck to hug me tightly.

"I'll try not to. Fuck knows I don't want to take you on again," I tell her.

"You really, really don't! 'Night! Bye, Jus." and Daphne was gone through the double doors of her dorm.

"Let's go home, Sunshine. It's been a long fucking day and I need to take you to bed."

On the ride home, Justin's sitting sideways in the passenger seat, his legs tucked up under him and his head tilted to the side resting against the headrest. He's watching me drive with a contemplative look on his pale handsome face. At one point he reaches over and grasps my hand, holding it in both of his and stroking the backs of my knuckles with his thumbs.

"You're thinking way too loudly, Sunshine. Tell me," I direct.

"Daphne sure does know how to put things into perspective, doesn't she?" Justin comments.

"In a really scary way, yes, she does," I admit. "But that isn't what's causing you to chew at your lip like that. So, what is it?"

"It helps a lot that you say you're not going to trick at the clubs anymore, Brian. It really does. I didn't like the way I felt when I saw you with that trick. It made me feel . . . bad," he starts to answer, very tentatively. "Thank you for . . . for being willing to give that up so I won't feel hurt. That means a lot to me."

"But, even if you don't trick, it still doesnt really explain to me why you want me here. You never did answer Daphne's question, Brian. You never have said 'why'. Why are you doing these things, asking me to live with you, giving me things? You say that you don't want me just for sex. You say its not just out of pity. I want to believe you, but . . . Just telling me what something isn't doesn't explain what it is. Until I understand why you're doing all this, I'm always going to wonder . . . to doubt, I guess. It just doesn't make sense to me, Brian. I'm sorry, but it doesn't."

We pull up to the curb in front of the loft just as he finishes speaking. I twist in my seat so that I'm facing him. Justin has become such a large presence in my life in such a short period of time that most of the time I don't notice that he's physically much smaller than I am. His big personality, not to mention my huge desire for him, make him seem to take up my entire range of vision when I'm looking at him. But tonight, looking at him sitting next to me, he seems so unsure, still frightened and insecure even with what we did resolve, and he looks so much smaller to me than usual.

He won't be satisfied if I tell him again that I don't know why I'm doing all of this. And it wouldn't be an honest answer either. The truth is that I don't WANT to know why I'm doing this. I'm avoiding that question - I don't want to look into my motives too closely because I think I might discover something I'm not ready to face.

I know I didn't answer Daphne's question about my motivations. I did see where her questions were leading though and I know the logical conclusion she was trying to get me to reach. Why am I fighting this so hard? Justin's waiting patiently for my answer - he needs this, needs to understand so that he can come to his own answers. Why does this seem so hard? But I have to give him something after all he's been through he deserves more. So I have to try.

"Let's go inside, Justin," I say. "I'll try to explain, but I doubt it'll be a short conversation and well freeze to death if we sit out here and talk."

Upstairs, I lead him straight to the bedroom and undress us both then climb into bed, pulling Justin after me. I sit up against the pillows and pull my questioning young blond over so that he's nestled between my legs, his back to my chest and my arms around him, holding his body tightly against mine. It's not a sexual thing though - it's just the need for the physical connection that drives me to this. For some reason I don't think I can say what I need to say without having his touch.

Where to start? Justin has his background that's affecting how he perceives our world - that's what is driving his need to know this. So maybe I'll start by showing him my background and why that makes this so fucking difficult.

"Jack used to take me with him on some of his drinking sprees. Even when I was pretty young. When I was maybe 13 or 14 he started spending a lot of time during these 'outings' giving me his version of dating advice. 'Don't ever let 'em tie you down, Sonny Boy', he'd say over and over. 'You just get in, give it to 'em good and hard, and get out before you get caught. If you let ‘em get all emotional and mushy on ya then before you know it they got ya hooked and you'll end up like me - a miserable used up old man. I never should have been a family man, Sonny Boy. Don't you get trapped into this life, too'."

"Okay, so he was a stupid abusive drunk and nobody in his right mind would take advice from such a broken down loser, but after awhile, he said that shit to me so often it kind sunk in without my even knowing it. You know, it was easier to ignore the outright nasty crap he said and did, like when he'd yell at me or hit me, than the less overt stuff, even though it was just as toxic. So, some of what he said stuck with me, I guess."

"As soon as I could get away from Jack and Joan, I decided that I was never going to get pulled back into their lifestyle again. Not the abuse or the sanctimonious religious crap or any of it. Definitely not the co-dependent disfunctional farce they called a 'family'. I wasn't going to let anyone drag me down again, you know? So I set up these rules for myself, to make sure I wouldn't let myself get trapped back into their life. Only, somehow, that's precisely when some of that relationship advice Jack had given me crept back in - ironic, huh? Here I was trying to avoid doing anything that would make me even remotely like them and I start off by incorporating Jack's advice into my own life philosophy?"

"But the part about not letting anyone in, not letting anyone get any emotional ties on me, that part seemed to make sense in some fucked up way. It's like you told me once, Sunshine - if you let someone in they're more likely to hurt you, so you're better off not letting them in at all, right? Well, I guess that's basically the same thing Jack had been saying, in his own fucked up way."

"And that's what I thought, too. So one of my first rules was never to let myself get tied down - no repeats means no risk of getting tied down. No repeats also means no emotional entanglements, no relationships, no mess. And it sort of worked. I'm thirty years old and I've never had a serious relationship, ever. I've never let anyone get close enough, outside of a couple friends that I have no romantic interest in at all, to start a relationship. And, until now I didn't really feel the need for one."

I have to stop here. If I go on I'll be saying things that I'm not sure I want to say or even think about. Up till now I've just been acting without too much thinking getting in the way. But my actions - asking Justin to live with me, telling him I'd quit tricking, fuck - have completely outstripped my comfort level so I'm going to have to think about it all now, regardless of whether I want to or not.

Justin squirms around in my arms so his body is facing more to the side now. This lets him snake one arm around behind me so that he's hugging my waist while I'm holding him. He settles his head more comfortably into the hollow of my shoulder. His touch, the contact, skin on skin, reassures me. Then he uses my own words directed back at me, "tell me." So I do.

"My rules aren't working anymore. From the moment I saw you in that hospital bed I knew they wouldn't work for you. I can't keep you out. I don't want to. I want to let you in and I'm not afraid to get tied down anymore, if it's you. I think I want the 'relationship' part, complete with emotional entanglements. I feel things for you that I've never felt for anyone else before."

"I do care about you, Justin. It's not just pity or - what did Daphne call it - moral obligation. I want to take care of you, protect you, I want to keep you in my life. I want the ties. I want more. I want you. That's why I'm doing all this, Sunshine. So I can keep you in my life."

"I want you too, Brian," he says quietly. "I want you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope my logic in this chapter wasn't too negatively affected by all that beer last night. If you see any gaping gaps, please let me know. Now that we've got the boys squared away again (at least for a little while) it's back to the nefarious plotting against Craig and trying to figure out a good way to get Justin and Jennifer to meet again without driving him over the cliff. So, I'm off to plot and plan. Happy reading. TAG


	34. Reunification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Justin and Jennifer meet. I don't think it's going to be as easy as Jennifer thinks though to just get right back into her son's life. We'll see.   
> Hope everyone enjoys! TAG

Chapter 34 - Reunification.

Reunification: The act of coming together again, especially the returning of children to the custody of their biological parent or parents, after they have been involved in a period of foster care placement or other form of separation.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

"Jus'n. Come on! I want to go down the big slide again. Hurry up!" Gus is yelling at his playmate.

"Brian, I love your son, but he's wearing me out. How many times do I have to go down the slide?" Justin asks me, only half joking.

"Gus. Come here, Sonny Boy," I decide it's time for me to intervene and I call the boys over before Gus can make Justin climb the slide for the tenth time. "I think it's time to give Justin a break. Why don't you see if any of the kids on the play structure want to slide with you, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Gus says happily and runs off to make new best friends with the two other boys on the park's play structure.

"Come sit down, Sunshine," I pat the bench next to me and Justin willingly joins me. "Having trouble keeping up with the four year old, hmm? And here I thought you had such great stamina."

"Yeah? Well, I already got my workout for the day, this morning in your bed. I might have taken it easier if I'd known I was going to have to spend all afternoon running around with your son, the Energizer Bunny," Justin mock complains as he leans back against me and takes up his sketch pad which he made me pick up from my office on our way over here to the park.

"Poor Sunshine. You have to deal with both the Kinney men today."

"Actually, I don't mind. I effectively worked off all that pizza and ice cream from last night and I get to spend the day with my two favorite Kinney men, to boot," Justin says, and I can't resist leaning down to give him a small peck on the cheek as a thank you. "Besides, from the way Lindsey looked when she dropped Gus off earlier, she really needed some kid-free time."

"Yeah. It sounds like Mel's been working some ridiculous hours lately for this big trial she has coming up and that means she hasn't been around much to spell Lindsey on the mommy front. She did look a bit frazzled today, didn't she? Would you mind if I offered to keep Gus for tonight? It would give Lindz and Mel a whole night together without the kid?" I ask Justin.

"Umm, it's your call, Brian - your son and your place."

"No, it's 'our' place now, Justin," I say to him with a smile and relish the grin I get back from him in return. "You have just as much say as I do."

"I'd love for Gus to stay the night, Brian," Justin says a bit timorously.

"Then I'll see what I can do," I say, giving him a squeeze at the same time.

We sit for another fifteen minutes or so watching Gus romp and run with the other children in the park. Then, I hear jangly, tinny music playing out the melody to 'Pop Goes the Weasel' and a frenzy of children boils up everywhere around us, startling Justin into dropping his sketch pad. Before Gus reaches us on the bench where we're sitting, the cause of this commotion comes into view around the corner of the block - it's our local version of the pied piper: The Ice Cream Man

"Daddy! Daddy. Can I have an ice cream, please. Please, Daddy. Pleaseeeeeee!"

"Yes, you can have an ice cream, but only if you stop hopping up and down like that, Gus. Sunshine, here, will you take him? You can get yourself some too, since you say I worked all of last night's installment off you already. We don't want that bubble butt of yours deflating any time soon," I say handing Justin some money and patting him on the tush as he walks away with Gus tugging at his arm to hurry him along.

Justin looks back at me over his shoulder as he's being dragged away by Gus, smiling at me and wiggling his ass at me in revenge. I have this sudden urge to tackle him and kiss him violently. But, it's doubtful all the other mommies and daddies in the park would approve, so I just sit back down on the bench and wait instead.

"Hey, Bri," I hear from behind me and I turn to see Lindz and Emmett walking up arm in arm.

"Where's the munchkin, Bri? Did you get sick of Gus already and sell him to a band of traveling gypsies?" Em asks as he perches on the back of the bench looking around for his favorite 'nephew'.

"Hardly, Honeycutt. He's over there bombarding the ice cream truck along with the hundred other kids dying to get a sugar high," I indicate the seething mass of children at the curb a few hundred yards away.

"Along with Justin, I see," Lindz teases.

"I have to keep that bubble butt fed somehow, now don't I," I joke right back, smiling over as my son and my blond start back towards us, each licking away at a multi-hued Popsicle.

"How's Justin doing, Brian?" Lindsey asks in a more sober tone. "The guys said he collapsed at the club on Thursday night? Is he okay?"

"He's better. It was mostly just a misunderstanding. We worked it out."

"That was just a misunderstanding?" Emmett interrupts. "Fuck, Brian. That was one of the scariest things I've ever seen. One minute the two of you were screaming at each other, fit to be tied. And the next, Justin just collapsed at my feet. I didn't know what to do. Thank God Ben was there and took charge."

Gus and Justin have stopped for a second on their walk back, apparently to deal with a drippy situation Gus can't handle on his own. Unfortunately, their delay gives my peanut gallery more time to ask annoying questions. Cue the worried mom.

"Michael said it was some kind of panic attack. Does that happen a lot, Brian? I just think it might be pretty frightening if it happened when Gus was around," Lindsey interjects."

"It doesn't happen that often, Lindz," I respond. "And even if it did, Gus would be fine. He's already seen Justin have one of his bad nightmares and he didn't freak out at all. In fact, it helped calm Justin down to have Gus there. So don't go getting all overprotective mother on me or anything."

"Look, Daddy," Gus comes running up at that point, practically shoving his Popsicle in my face. "I got a 'fudgicle' and Jus'n got an 'orange creamicle'. You want a taste?"

But before I can say no, Gus has shoved his chocolate Popsicle into my face, mostly missing my mouth and instead hitting my nose. Gus thinks this is hilarious and almost drops his ice cream as he laughs uproariously. Lindz an Em are laughing along and making me just a tad pissed off. But Justin takes it all in stride. He sits himself in my lap, pulls my face around towards his and licks the chocolate off with his quick little pink tongue.

"Mmmmm. Chocolate ice cream kisses. My favorite," he murmurs provocatively while Emmett and Lindsey titter away behind me and Gus guffaws away on the bench next to us.

"Jus'n, you're so silly," Gus admonishes Justin. "You could have just borrowed my napkin."

We're all laughing now. It's one of those perfect moments, you know? The kind that makes you think of Norman Rockwell prints or Leave it To Beaver reruns. The kind of happy family moment I never thought I would have. But I do because of Gus, and now Justin, being in my life.

"Justin?" A voice interrupts our happy family moment and brings all the laughter screeching to a halt. "Hello. I'm sorry to interrupt, but . . ."

Justin is still perched on my lap, but he's frozen in place now, his face gone even paler and his forgotten popsicle dropped to the dirt. I instinctively wrap an arm around him, not that there's anything I can do to protect him at this point. Then I see Jennifer Taylor walk around to stand in front of the bench.

"Mrs. Taylor," I say eventually when no one else seems likely to speak. "I think I rember telling you that we'd contact you when Justin was ready. I'm pretty sure we didn't do that yet, so may I ask what you're doing here."

"It's been more than a week, Mr. Kinney. I was getting worried. I just . . . Well, I just thought I'd stop by that Diner where we met the first time and see if your mother would talk to me. I only wanted an update or to maybe find out something about how you were, Justin," Jennifer says, turning to appeal to her son.

"Debbie wasn't working today though so I was just going to have a coffee and then leave when I heard this couple here," she indicates Lindsey and Emmett, "talking about meeting 'Brian and Justin' at the park. I figured it was probably you, so I . . . I followed you. Sorry."

"I just had to find you, Justin. I want to know you're all right and I want you to know how sorry I am for everything you've had to go through. I really had no idea what your father did, Justin. If I had, I would have stopped him," Jennifer's voice begins to die off the longer she talks without getting any response from Justin. "Justin? Please say something. Please just look at me."

Justin isn't yet ready to speak but I watch as he slowly closes his eyes. Then he gingerly taps my arm with his fingers twice - its our little special signal and it gives me enough hope that I let a tiny smile reach my lips. Then I lift him off my lap and set him down next to me on the bench so he's seated less precariously before I return my attention to his mother.

"Mrs. Taylor," I begin.

"Jennifer, please."

"Jennifer, whatever. You don't know shit about what Justin's been through over the past few years. And, just because you're his mother doesn't give you the right to force yourself back into his life now if he's not ready for that. He's already been hurt too much by his so called family and I'm not going to let it happen again. So, Mrs.Taylor, Jennifer, I think you should just leave."

"Who the hell are YOU to tell me that I can't talk to my son? Justin's sitting right there. Why won't you let him speak for himself?"

"I'm his partner, that's who I am," I shout, standing up to physically block this woman's approach with my body. "I'm also the person who's going to do whatever I can to stop anyone from hurting him. And Justin CAN speak for himself, but since he obviously hasn't yet, you might just take that as a sign he doesn't want to and leave."

"I'm not going anywhere till I get a chance to talk to my son, damn it. I don't care who you think you are. Get out of my way," Jennifer yells back, more than matching the volume of my voice.

"The fuck I will. You're not getting to Justin without going through me . . . "

"Stop it!" Justin's voice cuts through all the tension building between his mother and me. "You're scaring Gus. Please, both of you, just stop."

When I look down I see Gus huddling in Justin's arms. The boy looks almost as frightened as Justin. They're both cringing away from the angry dispute going on between myself and Jennifer.

"I'm sorry, Sonny Boy. It's gonna be okay. I'll stop yelling, alright?" I say, kneeling down beside him and reaching out to run my hand through his wispy brown hair.

"Brian, why don't you and Lindsey take Gus back over to the play area. I'll stay here and talk to my mother," Justin advises, then turns his attention to the scared little boy in his arms. "Don't worry, Gus. I'm fine. This is my mother, just like Lindsey and Mel are your mommies. We just haven't seen each other in a long time so we have lots to talk about. Why don't you go play some more and then, when I'm done talking here, I'll come join you guys. Okay?"

Gus doesn't look convinced that Justin will be okay if he leaves. He starts to get up off the bench, but he's still got a tight grip on Justin's hand. I lay my hand against his small back, trying to reassure him that everything will be all right. But Gus is still looking back and forth between Justin and Jennifer, as if he's not done sizing up the situation.

"Are you really Jus'n's mommy?" he asks of Jennifer.

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Was Jus'n bad?"

"No. He hasn't been bad." Jennifer says, smiling indulgently down at the small boy confronting her.

"Then you should stop yelling. You're scaring Jus'n. And you're scaring me. So just stop."

With that ultimatum, Gus turns his back on Jennifer and stomps away towards the play structure. Lindz follows him closely. I give Justin one more inquisitive look, but shrug and leave as well when Justin nods at me to let me know he's fine. Emmett lingers and asks, "Sweetie?" Justin smiles and shakes his head at the wordless offer of support, though, so Em follows Lindz and me, leaving Justin to finally talk with his mother.

I just hope he was ready.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"He's adorable," mom says as we watch Gus stomping off.

Yeah. He's a great kid." I agree

"He's Brian's son?" she asks and I nod.

I have no idea what to say to this woman. I grasp the fact that she's my mother. But I've been without a mother, or any other family, for so long that it's difficult to remember what you should say to one. I'm wracking my brain, but I can't seem to come up any likely topic of conversation. So I just sit here acting stupid and wait for her to say something more.

"So, you and this, Brian - you're . . . together?" she asks, finally.

"Yeah. It looks that way," I reply happily, still excited about hearing Brian use the word 'partner' even if I don't think he realized he said it.

"I didn't know you were . . . " she can't finish her sentence.

"Gay?" I finish it for her. "There's shitloads of stuff you don't know about me, mom. Most of it you really don't want to know. The fact that I'm gay is relatively minor."

"Is he good to you? I mean, are you happy with him?" she persists.

"Yeah. I think I am."

"I heard the other two talking about you passing out in some dance club on Thursday. Are you okay? What happened?"

"I don't . . . I'm not ready to talk about that with you mom. But, I'm fine now, so there's no need to worry."

"Justin, I have some money so if you need anything - if you need medical care or anything, I can help you."

"No. I don't need anything. Brian has money. And, I have a job - I work in the art department of a local ad agency. I'm even going to have health insurance through work soon. So, you don't have to worry." I figure I don't need to tell her it's Brian's company - at least not yet.

"That sounds wonderful, Justin. You always were a wonderful artist. I'm impressed you found such a great job and that it's in a field you enjoy. I'm a realtor now, myself. I just got my license last month," she sounds proud of this, so I smile and nod at her.

"You know that I left your father," she states.

"Yeah, Brian told me."

"I should have done it years ago," she continues. "I was just too afraid. And naive. I didn't think I would be able to support myself, let alone you too. So I stayed with the bastard even though I hated him. Even though I saw what he was doing to you . . . I'm so, so sorry Justin."

I have nothing to say in response to that statement. I just continue to sit there in silence. When that gets to be too much for her, she goes on while I listen.

"I know it's really no justification, but I need for you to understand, Justin, that I never thought it would get as bad as it did. It all started off so . . . Small, I guess you would say. At first he was just a little bit more strict with you than the other dads. I really didn't think that was bad - I agreed with a lot of the things your father said in the beginning. He said he just wanted to bring our son up to be a good, morally upstanding person. But, somewhere along the way he just started to go too far."

"It's wasn't until the day that he . . . You know . . . the 'masterbation' episode," she can barely even whisper the word, "That I realized he'd finally gone too far. I'd never seen him like that. It was the first time he hit me, you know, and I was so hurt and shocked that I didn't know what to do."

"But I made sure he never hit you, Justin. And, for a while after that incident, things got a little better. So, I agreed to give him another chance. But then, things started to go downhill and I felt stuck again."

"And when you disappeared and Craig told me he'd sent you away to his brother's, I actually was happy because I thought you'd be better off away from him. He told me you were going to community college there after you graduated. He told me a lot of stuff to keep me from looking for you, Justin. I know now it was all lies, but I guess at the time they were just lies I wanted to believe so I didn't ask too many questions."

"I don't really want to hear this, mother," I manage to tell her when she finally pauses. "It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make me feel any better. Like Brian says, 'Sorry is bullshit'. All we can do is try not to make the same mistakes a second time and just move on."

"Justin, please, isn’t there something I can do to make it all up to you?" she asks.

"I don't see how."

"Fine. Then at least, like you said, can't we try to just move on? If I can't do anything about the past will you at least let me be part of your future. I'm still your mother and I still love you, no matter what you think."

"What does that mean? Be part of my future?" I don't even know if I have a future yet so I have no idea how to incorporate this woman into it.

"I mean don't cut me out of your life altogether. Maybe we could just get together occasionally, have coffee, lunch, whatever. You could call me and tell me what you're doing every so often. I'd like, at the very least, to know how to contact you."

It seems like a reasonable thing - to know how to contact your mother and to let her contact her son. I don't really see any reason to object. So, I get out my phone, ready to give her my number. But then I stop cold, fingers of ice cold fear holding me back.

"He can't ever know this," I blurt out. "Father can't know this. I don't want him to ever find me. If I give you my number, there's no way he'll ever get it from you is there?"

"No. Not that I can think of, Justin. I haven't talked to him in months myself. If you don't want him to know about you, I promise that I won't tell him anything."

And I believe her. So I give her my phone number and email address. And then we talk for a little while longer. She asks me more questions about my life - mostly mundane, everyday things - which I answer for the most part. After a few minutes, Brian comes back and sits by me, holding my hand proprietorially.

"Sunshine, I don't want to interrupt, but Gus is under the impression we're taking him to dinner at someplace called the 'Rainforest Cafe'," Brian says as soon as there's a break in the conversation. "And, according to Lindsey, we better get there early If we want to sit in the Gorilla Room, which is apparently Gus' favorite. I have no idea what that means, but Gus seems pretty intent on the idea. So . . . "

Seeing how serious Brian is about making his son happy, no matter how silly the child's requests, makes me smile. He's a good father. The best, actually. And seeing how his face lights up when Gus comes bounding over to us, proves it.

"Jus'n, Daddy's gonna take us to Rainforest Cafe. It's so cool. You're gonna love it. There's gorillas and elephants and all sorts of other animals and while you eat they come alive and dance and sing," Gus prattles on enthusiastically. "So, hurry up and finish talking to your mommy so we can go, okay."

"I'm done, Gus," I say and then laugh as Gus launches himself into my arms shouting 'yea' as loudly as he can.

"You're sure about this?" Lindsey, who's come up to us in Gus' wake, asks with concern. "If you want to spend more time with your mother, Justin, Gus could come over another night."

"No Lindsey. It's fine. We're done here," I tell her. "Besides I've never had dinner with a singing gorilla before. I can't wait, Gus."

Gus starts to tug at my arm to hurry me up. I stand, nod goodbye to my mother and follow the happy eager child off towards the park entrance where we left the Jeep. Behind me I can still hear Brian and my mother talking.

"You have a beautiful son," my mother says.

"Yeah. And Justin's really good with him. They've become good friends," Brian comments, then adds more. "Your son is beautiful, too. I care about him a lot. And, I won't let you or anyone else hurt him again if I can help it. Do you understand? Don't do anything to make me regret letting you back into his life or you'll regret it even more."

"Mr. Kinney, I would never . . . " my mother starts to say.

"You already have," Brian interrupts.

Brian catches up with Gus and me a moment later and we all walk together to the car and then head out for our dinner with the gorillas and elephants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, its back to the nefarious plotting. Oh, and more smut, because I've gone at least two chapters without now and I'm going into withdrawal. TAG


	35. Divulgence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a little for everyone, I hope. A little bit of light-hearted fun for the boys first. Then, a little bit of smut for my hard core readers who were missing that element in the past few chapters. And, then the angst when Brian finally finds out the worst thing that Craig did to Justin - as if he didn't have enough reason before to drag the monster into financial ruin and public notoriety. Hope you enjoy. TAG

Chapter 35 - Divulgence.

Divulgence: The act of disclosing something that was secret or private.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~  
I have to say that Justin and I are getting very creative about ways we can touch without being obvious around Gus. When I offered to let my son stay the night with us, I didn’t really think about the implications to our sex life. Obviously, throwing the adorable chef down on the kitchen counter and taking him in the middle of breakfast preparations isn’t possible - regardless of how hot he looks in that apron with no shirt on underneath. But, I guess we can keep it to our beds like breeders for one night for the sake of the kid. 

Rainforest Cafe Gorillas

After dinner with the singing gorillas last night, we picked up some movies and came back here. Gus and Justin spent the rest of the evening watching animated movies, drawing pictures and eating every form of junk food they could get their little hands on. I just sat back and watched in a combination of horror and affection. They really are beautiful together.

Today, as soon as breakfast is over and I’ve taken Justin to the shower to make sure and get every last little bit of pancake batter off him (while Gus is hopefully distracted by the Cartoon Network for at least a half hour), we’re taking him to Splash Lagoon for a full day of non-stop, wet and wild, water park insanity. I made the required sarcastic comments about the trip when Justin first proposed the idea, after seeing a commercial on television last night. But I’m secretly kind of excited about this - it’s another of those things that neither Justin nor I ever got to do as a kid and I can’t wait. Oh yeah, I think Gus will enjoy it too!

Splash Lagoon - Erie, PA

The water park is amazing. I’ve never seen anything so fun in my life and I know there wasn’t anything like this out there when I was a kid. There are seven or eight huge water slides, a wave pool, a rafting river and a whole kid zone where we get to plant Gus for long stretches of time while Justin and I go on the big boy slides without him. I keep forgetting I’m supposed to be the adult here as I run almost as fast as the kids around me from slide to slide, towing Justin after me. I never realized before how great an excuse having a kid can be when you want to have this kind of stupid, kid-like fun. Of course, I never had anyone like Justin to share it with before either.

Spending the whole day playing like a kid with Justin is so refreshing. I feel years younger and he looks relaxed and happy, too. After all the drama of the past few days, he definitely deserves this. Plus, he looks so ridiculously hot in those swim trunks that I have a very, very hard time keeping my hands off his ass. This is, unfortunately, breeder central, though, so we’re careful to be very well behaved. We get a few looks from a couple of beer-bellied, red necked types even so and I don’t want to ruin this fun day by causing a fight. So, I just watch that cute little bubble butt flouncing around all day and make my plans for tonight instead.

After I’ve finally done all the slides and other rides at least twice (more like five or six times when it comes to the Hurricane Hole, my personal favorite), I calm down and start acting like a grown up again. We get Gus out of the kid zone and do some of the easier rides together for a while, hang out in the wave pool and then join in a water basketball game before we have a late lunch. Then we end the day with a rousing game of laser tag. I swear that I’ve regressed back to my teens before the day is out. 

Both Gus and Justin are asleep in the car before we’re more than fifteen minutes away from the park. I feel inordinately pleased at myself for having worn them both out so completely. I feel like some kind of ‘super-dad’. I’m still smiling at my accomplishment when we arrive back at Lindsey and Mel’s and I unload their still sleepy son, carrying him straight upstairs to his bed while Justin brings in Gus’ bag. And, even Mel harping on me that I’m spoiling him and that he’ll be too tired in the morning for school, doesn’t dampen my mood.

Now, it’s back to the loft where I plan on introducing Justin to another amusing ride he can take over and over again, as long as he’s willing and I can keep it up.

~~*~~  
Justin’s POV  
~~*~~

Living with Brian is pretty much every teenager’s dream. I have every physical thing I need or want and some stuff I didn’t even know I wanted until he gave them to me. I have toys and games and food and art supplies to amuse myself. He seems to find indulging me with all this stuff to be a huge pleasure, which I find weird, but, whatever. Then, there’s the fun outings - the zoo, the Fairmont, and today the waterpark. On top of that there’s always pot around, he actually encourages me to watch porn if I want and there aren’t really any rules except I have to keep my stuff picked up and not forget to lock up the loft if I leave. Oh, and there’s the non-stop, round the clock, all you can take sex, too. Fuck Disneyland - I’ve got the the funnest place on earth right here. 

The contrast though with how I grew up is galling. Seeing my mother yesterday brought it all back. I realize now that she was just as suppressed as I was and probably even more abused. But, I still can’t quite forgive her for letting my father do what he did. Why didn’t she see, even before the abuse got ‘bad’ like she said, that what we had wasn’t a real family. We didn’t ever do anything like a real family does. We never had fun together. I can’t imagine, even in my wildest fantasies, my father ever going down a waterslide with me the way Brian did with Gus today. The more I’m around Brian and Gus, the more angry I get at my father because I see what a real father should be like.

My phone rings just as we’re leaving Lindsey and Mel’s house after dropping off Gus. The caller ID says its my mother. I hit the ‘decline’ call button without even thinking about it. I can’t handle talking to her right now. Not after this wonderful day. It would just make it too hard to hold back all the anger. Besides, I have something a lot better to do right now, namely thanking Brian for all the fun we’ve had today. And, now that Gus is gone, I can finally thank him properly. 

At the first stop light we reach, I unbuckle my seatbelt so I can scoot over closer to Brian. Then I give him a long, slow, wet kiss before I quickly unzip his jeans, pop him out and dive down to start with my show of appreciation. As I’m bending over, I notice the guy in the car next to us at the light looking over in surprise at what’s going on in our car. The guy’s look of surprise slowly turns to a smirk of amusement though before I lose sight of him as I bend down below the level of the window. 

Brian gets hard really fast. He’s a little surprised at first I think, but he takes it all easily in stride, enjoying the exhibitionism of the whole thing. I’m too busy to look, but I bet you anything he’s watching that guy in the next car watching us. That would be so Brian.

By the time the light changes and Brian starts to drive, I’ve got him about halfway down my throat. I wish I could remember how many lights there are between here and the loft. I don’t want to cause an accident and if I can, I plan to hold off Brian’s climax until we’re stopped. Safety first, right?

However, in the meantime, I can keep him happy with a little tongue action. I move down away from his hardened shaft so I can spend some time playing with his twins. First I swirl the tip of my tongue around on his scrotum, tickling his sac a little to get him squirming. Then, I start licking at his balls with long, sweeping strokes like I'm savoring a particularly delicious ice cream cone. In between licks I suck in tiny sections of the soft skin and leave tiny hickey kisses all over. By the time Brian stops at the next traffic light I've also added the occasional feverish flick across his raphe, causing him to moan so loudly that I'm pretty sure the elderly couple in the car now idling next to us can hear him.

When the light changes and Brian starts driving again, I back off and blow puffs of cool air across all the areas that are still wet from my tongue and mouth. Once I've got him a little cooled down, I again mix it up by sucking first one ball and then the other into my mouth. All the time I'm slowly stroking his shaft with my hand, moving so very agonizingly slowly that he'll never come but he'll feel it and long for me to increase my pace. Finally, I take both balls into my mouth together, sucking a little bit hard, just enough to make him gasp. The pain in his package combined with the caressing of his cock should be just enough to make him sweat. That little groan he just couldn't hold back tells me I'm doing just that - it's very encouraging.

I risk a quick peek to see where we are and I note that we're only a few blocks from the loft now. Time to move on to the main dish. I let the twins out and trail my tongue slowly up from them along the underside of Brian's rod. A little swirl or two around the head let's him know what to expect next. When I take his cock into my mouth he's more than ready and he thrusts into me involuntarily.

I take the hint and suck him him faster. When I swallow him deep and start to hum Brian is groaning again and I can see his knuckles are white where he's gripping the steering wheel so hard it would snap if it weren't steel. I'm still fondling his balls with one hand and I can feel the slight tightening of the skin that tells me he's very close.

And then we're home. As Brian pulls the car to the curb I rub my nose and lips a little playfully in his soft pubes then, keeping up a strong suction, I quickly slide my mouth back up his shaft. I'm pressing against his perineum with one finger at the same time and by the time my tongue is circling around the tip of his head, Brian is cuming buckets into my mouth and shouting out my name.

As I sit up and finish licking my lips, I reach over and pull the parking brake on, since Brian's still too dazed to remember that or anything else.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

I'm still tucking myself back away after Justin's phenomenal blowjob and we haven't even made it out of the Jeep before my cell phone rings. The caller ID says it's Jennifer Taylor. Not really the first person I want to talk to after that fabulous experience, but . . .

"Kinney," I answer.

"Mr. Kinney, it's Jennifer Taylor. I was hoping Justin was available. I tried his number a little while ago but he didn't answer."

"I'm afraid he had his mouth full before," I say, causing Justin, who's standing next to me to laugh a little too loudly. "Let me check and see if he can talk now, Jennifer."

I push the mute button on the phone and turn to hand it to Justin. But he's backing away from me, waving his hands to tell me no. I'm confused by his reaction - I know he wasn't really ready to talk to his mother yesterday, but after they started it seemed like their conversation went well, so I'm not sure what the problem is now.

"Do you want me to talk to her or should I just tell her you'll call her back later," I ask him, but I don't get any real response as Justin simply turns and runs towards the building and uses his key to go inside, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.

"Sorry, Jennifer," I say when I reconnect the call. "He was here just a minute ago, but I don't know what happened to him. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh. Well, I just wanted to talk to him some more. We didn't get a chance to say much yesterday. He seemed so . . . distant. Believe it or not, when he was a little boy, Justin was so outgoing and boisterous. He made friends so easily. And, he was always the center of attention. I just don't know what changed. When I saw him yesterday it was like meeting a stranger."

"Justin has been through a lot since the last time you saw him, Jennifer. He's not the same person you knew. For all intents and purposes he is a stranger to you. You can't just pop back into his life after, what has it been - three years, and expect to pick up right where things left off," I answer, amazed at the extent of her naïveté.

"Have you known each other long, Mr. Kinney?" she asks.

"You can call me Brian," I concede before answering. "And no, I haven't know Justin that long."

"Has he told you what . . . What his father . . . What my ex-husband did to him?"

"Some of it. I know there's more, but Justin will tell me when and if he's ready. I'm not going to push him. He's . . . He's so easily hurt still, I . . . " I don't know how much more I feel comfortable telling this woman, even though we're talking about her son.

"I wish Justin would talk to me about it. I tried yesterday to explain a little, but he didn't want to discuss it. I think he needs to or . . . I'm seeing a counselor right now myself. She's got me talking about a lot of the things that Craig did and it's really helping. I think if Justin could talk about what he's been through and maybe get some help processing it, he'd be better off in the long run. But, if he won't talk to me or you, I'm worried that all that negativity will just fester and cause him more trouble in the future. Do you think he'd agree to see a psychiatrist?"

"No. Justin is not ready for that. He hates doctors."

"Yeah. That's Craig's doing as well. I think he was always afraid that someone would find out what he was doing to Justin, so he made sure Justin never got a chance to talk to any doctors or school counsellor's. And, whenever Justin did get pulled into the school counsellor's office or even the school nurse's office, Craig always punished him afterwards. There was even one time where Justin got sick - he passed out from severe dehydration - and I took him to the hospital, and Craig had the nerve to punish him afterwards for that, too. So, yeah, Justin learned to be afraid of doctors, because every time he went to one he'd get into trouble."

Listening to her talk about all of this so nonchalantly, blaming everything on her husband and taking no responsibility for any of it, even though she watched it all, is making me furious. Granted, I don't know the whole story. Craig might have been just as abusive to her as he was to his son, but I still can't get over the fact that she didn't do anything to stop all this from happening. It's surreal listening to her and realizing she doesn't understand that what she did was almost as bad as what her husband did. I'm glad she's not here in front of me saying these things because I would probably be strangling her by now

I just can't continue to talk to her though. "Jennifer, I have to go. I'll make sure Justin knows you called. But, I don't know if he'll call you back right away. Please, just give him some time to adjust to you before you start bombarding him with calls. I don't think he's ready to be your son again, yet."

"I guess I can understand that even if I wish it were different. Thank you, Brian. Just let Justin know I called and that he can call me anytime he needs anything."

"Yeah. Bye."

Upstairs, I find Justin sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. It's as if he's disconnected from life again. I understand that it's his way of coping, but I don't have to like it.

I grab two bottles of water out of the fridge and join him, pulling him around so he's nestled between my legs with his legs draped across one of my thighs. It feels right and we always communicate better when we're touching anyways. So I tuck him up against me before I start in on the topic I want to address.

"Your mother just wanted to talk," I tell him. "She said she's worried about you. I told her you'd call her when you were ready and not to bug you in the meantime. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks. I just didn't want to deal with that today," he tells me as he snugs his head closer under my chin.

"Drink," I tell him as I crack open a water for him, still thinking about what Jennifer had said to me and about Justin being hospitalized for dehydration.

"Hey there," I say teasingly when he's still silent after a few more minutes. "What happened to that sunshine smile you've had plastered on your mug all day? I liked that look on you much more than the sad goth boy thing."

"I'd never make it as a goth. Too blond," he half-heartedly jokes back.

"You're right there. So, then, what's with the gloomy?"

"My mother. Seeing her, talking to her, it's hard. It brings back too many bad memories," Justin's voice is quiet and distant.

"She said something that bothered me," I decide to ask him, still trying to wrap my head around Jennifer's attitude. "She said you passed out once from dehydration and she had to take you to the hospital. I don't understand how that could happen - how she could have let that happen without doing something to stop him, Justin. She keeps saying how sorry she is, which is such complete bullshit to start with, but even so, how does she justify letting him do that without intervening?"

"That was the worst time that I can remember," Justin says, his voice unemotional and almost mechanical. "She was hurt too. I don't think she really knew what to do. Neither of us knew what to do. He probably would have done something even worse if she had intervened, so there wasn't really anything she could have done then."

"That doesn't make sense though, Justin. Maybe Craig was on a tear for a few hours, maybe even a day, but you don't pass out from dehydration unless you've been denied water for days. couldn't she have done something before that?"

"It WAS days . . . " he corrects me. "I'd been locked in my room for at least two days already - I don't remember what for. It was probably nothing. He came in my room that morning while I was still asleep. The funny thing is, he was probably coming to tell me my punishment was over and to let me out. But, when he came in my room, he caught me with my hand on my dick and I was hard. I was asleep - I wasn't really doing anything. But it was breaking his rules, so I had to be punished."

He's quiet for a long while and I wonder if he's going to say more or not. But then he starts speaking again, "I was going to stand up to him that time. I wasn't going to let him punish me for something I had no control over. That's when things got completely out of hand."

"He made my mother watch. He told her that she'd coddled me, that it was her fault, so she had to watch what it was her precious little boy did with his dick all day. I wasn't going to do it, but he said he'd lock me back up in my room for the rest of the week. I couldn't do it. I was so hungry. I couldn't go even another day, so I did what he said."

"He made me jack off in front of them both. My mother tried to make him stop but he hit her. He threatened to do even more, so I guess she didn't want to antagonize him. Only, I couldn't stay hard. He got even angrier. 'I was defying him', he said. He told me I'd stay there till I was through and if I stopped, things would get even worse. So I stayed and kept trying."

"I don't know how long it lasted. My mother took me to the hospital when I passed out," he says, sounding relieved by this part of the memory, as if a hospital stay is a good thing. "The doctor said I probably got dehydrated so quickly because it was a hot day and I was under a lot of stress. My mother didn't tell him about all the rest, of course. I don't remember what excuse she gave them that time. But my father was even angrier about my having to go to the hospital and I got punished again the next day when I got home. It wasn't as bad though. And, for a while afterwards he was a little better. But not for long."

Neither of us says anything after that for a time. What the fuck do I say to that? What could anyone say or do to make up for that? The sheer magnitude of the torture this boy had to go through is astounding. If Craig Taylor was here in front of me right now, I doubt anything could stop me from killing him with my bare hands.

I say something or make a sound, although I'm not sure what I intended to say. It's enough to jog Justin out of his trance. He curves his neck to look up at me and seems startled by whatever emotions he sees on my face. He reaches one finely boned hand up to stroke the side of my face and looks at me with an almost apologetic expression.

"It's okay, Brian. Remembering that was hard, but it did help me. I only just got that memory back the other night when we were at the hotel. It's what was holding me back - keeping me from getting aroused. When I finally remembered, I knew I could fight him now. I wasn't going to let him win. I wasn't going to let him keep me from being with you or enjoying my life. And, I am doing better. So, maybe remembering is good for me, even if I don't really want to sometimes. But, you shouldn't worry about it, Brian. Really."

"Justin, I hate what your father did to you. I'm going to make him pay for what he did. I am. . . "

And I almost tell him then what it is I've been planning and working on. But I change my mind at the last second. He doesn't need any more reminders about his father or stress over how my plan is progressing. I'll finish off Craig first, and then I'll tell Justin. Justin can join me in the end, while I stand gloating over a crushed and discouraged Craig, right before I stomp him into oblivion forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - we find out how Brian's evil plans are progressing. Off to write more. TAG


	36. Machinations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOHHHHHH! The plot thickens - very, very thickly now. Brian's schemes are going so well. Everything looks like its going to be a piece of cake. Craig is going down and so far Brian has steered clear of any problems. Mwa ha ha. Not likely! Get ready for all that foreshadowing you've picked up on my dear readers to start to come to fruition. Can't wait to hear the reviews I get after this chapter! He he he. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 36 - Machinations.

Machinations: Scheming or crafty actions or artful designs intended to accomplish some usually evil ends.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

The first thing I do this morning, as soon as I get to the office, is call Ted in. I can tell its good news as soon as he walks in the door by the shit eating grin he's sporting. He almost waltzes up to my desk and deposits a tidy accordion file full of papers in front of me.

"Got 'em, Bri!" Ted crows. "The Subordination Agreement from First Penn just came in by fax and the rest of the loan and security agreements along with the retail marketing contract, each bearing the original signature of one soon-to-be-sorry Craig Taylor, arrived by courier first thing this morning. As soon as I get the UCC filings completed with the Secretary of State's Office, I'll wire the funds to Hikaroshi and this will be a done deal. Until Apple files their patent violation suit, that is. Then, it's likely to unravel faster than your grandma's knitting."

"Theodore, you're amazing," I congratulate him as I start signing all the papers he puts them in front of me one after the other. "That's got to be the fastest financing deal ever brokered. You'll have to remind me to give you another raise next time we renew your employment contract."

"Now, as soon as everything is signed, sealed and filed," I continue, "I want you to 'mistakenly' email a copy of the marketing contract over to Vanguard Advertising - make it look like an accident somehow, like you're trying to send something else and get the wrong attachment - whatever, just so long as it gets there. Last I heard, Vance was still doing the marketing work for Apple's local subsidiary. I'm sure that once he sees that contract he'll make sure his client knows what their competition is up to. That should hurry things along on the patent dispute side of things."

"Remind me again never to get on your bad side, oh evil one," Ted says, packing all his paperwork away. "I'll let you know as soon as its all finalized, Bri."

Even if it all comes together by tomorrow, it would still be too late. Nothing I do now will erase those memories that Justin has to deal with every day. And, maybe I can't fix this, but making Craig Taylor rue the day he was born might make me feel a little better, at least.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I really love my job. Every day I get to come to Kinnetik with Brian, I go downstairs to the art department and sit at MY desk. Then I spend ten to fifteen minutes looking over my ToDo list and planning out my day. Those first few minutes are the best part of my whole day, because I'm planning all the things I'm going to do and I love the anticipation I feel then. Plus, I simply love looking at that ToDo list.

Jessica showed me the other day how to use the computerized calendaring system the rest of the office uses - it has a 'tasks' function that works just like a ToDo list. On the computer, when you finish a task and click the little 'done' box, the task disappears off the list so that you only get to see the pending, unfinished tasks in your list. But I think I'll stick to my handwritten paper list, at least for now. I like the feeling I get when I draw a line through a task I've done and then still see it there on my list. I'm on my third or fourth page of my list now, but I haven't gotten rid of any of the pages with crossed off stuff. I like having that little history of all my accomplishments to look at all the time. I like knowing that I've been able to do all those things, mostly all by myself, and then adding new future accomplishments to the list as well.

Looking at that list now, I'm amazed at how much I've done. ME. Justin Taylor - former street hustler turned graphic artist. I'm sure that if I didn't have this list here to look at it would seem even less real. But see, it shows I've completed everything I was responsible for on the Daddies Board Shop account - my first ever ad campaign - which is being wrapped up by others right now. And, there's the stuff I did on the VooDoo Doughnuts campaign with Jessica. Right now the list shows I'm working on three other projects, simultaneously. I've never felt more useful or more real.

When I think about the fact that what I'm doing is making money for Brian's company, I get even more satisfaction. Every one of those completed tasks, in essence, equates to a little pay back for all of the wonderful things Brian does for me. I'm helping Brian. That feels even better than all the rest.

I've received several paychecks by this point and I've put them all in the bank. I like knowing that I have that money there in case I were to ever need it. But, for the moment at least, I'm not really sure what purpose it's serving, since Brian never lets me pay for anything. I'm planning on having a talk with him about that soon. I know that he likes taking care of me and paying for things, but I want to help. It's like the ToDo list - I want to be able to see that I'm contributing. Maybe I'll put that talk on my ToDo list - that way I'll get to cross it off later.

Before I finish going through my list and planning out my day, Ted comes bustling through to door and he's veering towards my desk, his usual portfolio full of papers tucked under his left arm.

"I've got something for you, Justin. I think you're going to like this, too," he says, handing me an official looking envelope. "It's your official, replacement Birth Certificate. I know it took forever - god, the amount of bureaucracy it took to get that is mind boggling. But, that should be the hardest part. Now that you've got this, you can get a new State ID and eventually a Drivers License, not to mention a new Social Security card and then even a passport. You, my boy, are well on your way to being officially back on the grid."

"Thanks, Ted," I tell him, very appreciative of the amount of work he's gone through on my behalf. "I feel like a real person again and now I'll soon have the paperwork to prove it."

"Don't mention it," Ted says. "Just give me a couple more weeks and I should have everything set up for you to go get your photo ID from the state."

This merits a little celebration, I think. I pick up my envelope and head upstairs to share my excitement with the only other person who will understand. I stop at Cynthia's desk on the way and ask if now is a good time to bother the boss. She winks at me and comments that the boss rarely minds a good 'bothering'. She also tells me that Brian's on the phone right now but that he doesn't have any other appointments this morning and I can go in if I want, but to remember to lock the door behind me. That Cynthia has a very naughty mind, but I like where she's going with this, so I take her advice, locking the door behind me as I enter Brian's lair.

"I don't give a fuck about that. It's not my problem," Brian's yelling into the phone as he paces back and forth behind his desk, he sees me and waves me to sit though, so I don't leave. "What I do care about is that you're already two weeks late on your first payment. The financing agreement was clear on this point. If I have reason to doubt the financial stability of your company, I have the right to request that a receiver be appointed to take over the operations of the business. That's all I've done. You shouldn't have signed the contract or taken my money if you didn't like the terms . . . "

"Well, of course I'm a heartless bastard. I'm a businessman, aren't I? Who'd you think you were borrowing money from, Mother Theresa? . . . I told you, I don't give a fuck about your mortgage or alimony. Make your payments to me and prove to me your business is stable and then you can do what ever else you want with the rest of your money. And don't waste my time with your whining in the meantime, you fucking prick."

Brian almost screams that last part into his phone before ending the call and tossing his phone across the room, where it thankfully lands on an upholstered chair which cushions it's fall. I'm pretty sure that he's not in the mood for my little trivial news after that phone call, but there is something I can do to help him. I get up from the chair I was sitting in and walk around his desk to interrupt his frenetic pacing. When he turns at the end of his latest lap, he almost knocks me over but manages to grab me at the last minute. Then he smiles at me, a bit sadly but a smile nonetheless, and then hugs me tightly. I can feel the tension draining out of him as we stand there, arm in arm, for several minutes.

"Oh, Sunshine," he says finally, sighing while his one hand plays with the hair at the nape of my neck. "That's exactly what I needed."

"That's all you needed?" I ask incredulously. "I was thinking that maybe you needed just a bit more than a hug after that conversation. In fact, I think I know a really great way to get rid of all that stress, but it's going to involve a lot more than just a hug, Mr. Kinney."

I grab a hold of his expensive silk tie and drag him after me till my ass is bumping against the edge of his neatly organized desk. Pulling Brian down with that convenient tie, I take a long slow taste of those luscious deep red lips, enjoying the unabashed response I'm getting from Brian. Then, I release my hold on his tie, briskly unzip my pants and push them and my briefs down. Brian's only a movement or two behind me with his own slacks, I see, and as soon as he's done with that little job, he immediately seizes me, spins me around and bends me over the edge of his smoked glass desktop.

My efficient, bold businessman doesn't waste any of his precious time. He pulls a convenient condom and a bottle of lube out of his desk drawer and preps both himself and me without much fuss. Then he slides his hands up my back, under my shirt, so he has more exposed skin to touch and caress and taste. Finally, curling one hand over my shoulder to hold me steady, he guides himself with his other hand and with one steady, direct motion, he slides into me hard, fast and full.

"Fuck, Sunshine," Brian breathes into the skin on my back as he practically collapses on me from the ecstasy of that first thrust. "I need you so bad right now. You better hold on. This is going to be hard and fast."

I just have time to curve my hands around the edge of the desk down next to my hips to hold on as directed before Brian grabs my shoulders with both hands and then slams into me as hard as he can. Again and again, he's ramming into me, not bothering with any of his usual finesse, just driving himself and me relentlessly. The precum from my dick has already leaked out onto the cold glass desktop and made a slick little puddle that I slide through with each of Brian's powerful thrusts and I'm getting off on the odd sensation of the cool, slick glass sliding against my cock as much as I am on the feeling of that hot steel rod pounding up my ass.

I wasn't really expecting how fast this implacable, demanding Brian was going to bring me off. I don't see this side of him that often - at home, I'm more used to seeing the tender, considerate lover who has all the time in the world to see to both our needs. This driven, hard-nosed businessman is different. He doesn't fuck around. He's got deadlines to meet and his time is worth something. He's not going to go easy on himself or anyone else around him. That includes not going easy on my ass when he's fucking the shit out of me across his desk between meetings. Did I say that I was really turned on by this?

I don't need any tender stroking to bring me off this time. My balls start to tingle with that electrical tension almost immediately. I briefly think about trying to hold back and wait for Brian, but that idea gets tossed the first time Brian drives in at a slightly different angle and hits my prostate dead on. Fuck waiting. I'm cumming now, hard, moaning and spewing wet puddles across Brian's desk as he slams into me over and over till I'm slithering through the mess I've made on the desktop. Brian seems to like the tableau I'm creating, and he cums seconds later, biting my shoulder blade to squelch his screams as he cums, his dick jumping in my ass as he shoots over and over till he collapses on top of me.

We lay there on the desk panting in unison for almost longer than it took us to fuck. I love the feeling of Brian's dick still inside me as we try to catch our breath. Brian eventually stands and pulls out, as I moan out from the sense of loss. I probably still wouldn't have moved though, if Brian hadn't carefully unhooked my fingers from their death grip on the edge of the desk, slid my body back through the puddle until my feet were again resting on the floor, and then pulled at my shoulders till I was once again upright.

When he turns my body around to face him, he's laughing. I rapidly scan myself and note the damage to my wardrobe and the fact that I'm dripping cum all over. Glass table tops might be fun, but they don't help control the mess much. When I look down at the desk, I see the destruction wasn't limited to my clothing either - his files are strewn everywhere, a couple even edging on the puddles of cum. That's all it takes for me to break out laughing as well. Brian leans in to kiss me between giggles and he's still laughing too.

We continue laughing the whole time we work together to tidy up after ourselves. Brian grabs a towel from the bathroom and sets to work on the puddle. I strip off my hopelessly dirty shirt and then help straighten files.

I stop briefly when I see a section of the local business journal that's fallen out of a file labelled 'TelePhonix' whose headline catches my eye. 'Hikaroshi and Taylor Electronics Injoined By Court in Patent Infringement Dispute' it reads. That's my father's company, which is why the headline jumps right out at me. I'm just about to ask Brian more about it and why he had this article saved in his file, when my train of thought is broken by an ostentatious knock at Brian's office door.

"Brian. Your ten o'clock appointment is here," Cynthia says through the locked door. "I've got them set up in the conference room, since I figured your office might be a little . . . messy. But, you'd better get your dick put away and get in there before they get too bored."

Cynthia's attitude just causes us both to break out into even more laughter. Brian comes over and takes the stack of files out of my hands and trades me instead for a sweat shirt he's pulled out of his gym bag. It's huge on me and not the most elegant business attire, but it's much better than the cum stained shirt I was wearing, which is still lying in a heap on the floor next to the soiled towel.

"I'll clean this up later, Sunshine," he tells me as he walks me out of the office on his way to his next meeting, his suit jacket already back on and without showing any visible evidence of our little extracurricular activities. "Thanks for the excellent stress relief treatment."

Then he's gone through the door of the conference room and I'm left to return back to my desk, feeling like I've gotten a really good start to my work day already.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

When I'm finished with my meeting in the conference room, I return to my office and start again on rectifying the destruction caused by Justin's earlier visit. Mmmmmm. That was a very enjoyable visit, too. I'm thinking we need more visits like that, much more often. But next time I'll remember to put a towel on the desk first, I think, as I scrub the dried cum off the desktop and the surrounding files.

Amongst the wreckage I locate Justin's phone and an envelope I don't recognize from the Office of Vital Statistics. I peek inside the envelope and see the official looking Birth Certificate and smile, realizing now why Justin had come to see me. That brings to mind the call I'd been on when he came in and my happiness dissipates a bit. Fucking Craig Taylor and his histrionics. But, I don't want his well orchestrated destruction to have negative repercussions for too many innocent bystanders - which means I need to make a call to Jennifer Taylor.

I can't find my phone anywhere in this mess so I decide to use Justin's which happens to be conveniently at hand. I pull up his contacts list and tap on Jennifer's name then wait for the call to be connected. The call connects quickly but I don't immediately hear anyone on the other end of the line. Odd, but not too surprising, cell phone service being as spotty as it is sometimes. Then I hear what seems to be breathing on the other end, but something about the sound isn't right.

"Jennifer? Brian Kinney here. Is everything okay? I can't hear you. Can you hear me? Jennifer?" I can tell someone's on the line but they either aren't speaking or there's something wrong with the connection. "Jennifer, I still can't hear you. Why don't you call me back and maybe we'll get a better connection that way. I need to talk to you ASAP. It's about Craig. So, call me. Goodbye."

While I'm waiting for Jennifer to call back I finish cleaning up and reorganizing my desk. The TelePhonix file happens to have been one of those that got knocked over and part of the contents have fallen out. I locate all the pieces and refile it all neatly, reviewing in my head how well everything is going on that little project.

The Apple patent infringement suit was filed less than a week after we got all the paperwork with Taylor Electronics completed. The lawyers promptly filed all sorts of injunctions against everyone involved and got a court order freezing all of Craig's business bank accounts. There was definite noise made about including TelePhonix in the panoply of defendants, but thanks to the Kinney charm and playing dumb - we were merely providing the financing and had nothing to do with either Hikaroshi or Taylor Electronics, after all - they agreed not to include us so long as we cooperate fully with the plaintiffs attorneys and provide them with complete access to all our records regarding the deal.

I was, of course, happy to give them a complete copy of the entire Taylor Electronics file, complete with some easily manufactured documents that seem to indicate that Taylor was fully aware, because of his stringent and all-encompassing due diligence research into Hikaroshi beforehand, of the pending patent dispute. That supports the other documents that seem to indicate Taylor was less than honest with his other lenders about the nature of this deal. First Penn is already bandying around the word 'fraud', which I'm doing nothing to discourage, and threatening their own lawsuits. Poor Craig, if his creditors succeed with their claims of fraud, he'll never escape the liability to them and won't even be able to protect his assets in bankruptcy. He might even end up in federal prison at this rate - bank fraud sounds so impressive, which is probably why the DA has been intimating that an indictment might be coming soon. TelePhonix will of course be happy to assist in any such prosecution, so long as we get full immunity from any legal action against us.

It hasn't been easy, but, it looks like everything is falling into place nicely. There really isn't anything else I have to do. I'm just waiting, now, to see how it all plays out - maybe giving a nudge here and there when I see an opportunity to turn the screws on Craig a little harder. But, it seems my part in the destruction of Craig Taylor is complete.

I'm just finishing my clean up job when Justin's phone finally rings and I see it's Jennifer calling back. It's about time, I think, wondering again what was up with that prior call.

"Kinney," I answer.

"Brian? This is Jennifer Taylor. I was trying to return a call from Justin. Is he there?"

"Actually, that was me that called before. I'm using Justin's phone because I've misplaced mine somewhere," I explain. "Jennifer, I need to talk to you about what's going on with Craig. Are you aware of what's going on with his business and all the litigation he's mixed up in right now? I'm worried that you're going to be caught in the middle, particularly where your alimony payments are concerned. If Craig goes down financially, which is looking pretty likely, how bad off are you going to be?"

"I didn't know about any litigation," Jennifer replies. "But that would explain the unpleasant visit I just had from Craig. He said he came over to explain why I haven't received this month's alimony yet. He seemed pretty upset - not that I care, but he did look a little frantic. So, what is it he's gotten himself into now?"

I give her a quick summary of Craig's current woes, leaving out my role in the fiasco, of course. Jennifer's only comment is that it serves the bastard right, although she's sorry for Craig's new wife, who she's heard is already pregnant. She seems pretty much resigned to the fact that she's unlikely to see any more alimony payments for quite awhile. I offer to help her financially if she needs it, but she tells me she'll be okay, at least for now, thankfully removing that weight from my conscience.

"I appreciate you calling to let me know what's going on, Brian," she says when we're wrapping up the call. "It explains why Craig was so upset earlier. If he came over here looking for any sympathy from me though, he's certainly looking in the wrong place."

"I'm glad to hear that, Jennifer. Well, thanks for calling me back. By the way, wasn't the connection on that first call really fucked up? I wasn't even sure you'd heard me," I comment, still curious about that first call for some reason I can't yet pinpoint.

"What first call?" Jennifer asks.

"The call I made earlier on Justin's phone. I assumed that was why you'd called me back," I clarify, but when that still doesn't elicit any response, I continue. "I called you about fifteen minutes ago, and it seemed like the line connected but I couldn't tell if there was someone on the line or not. I figured that maybe you could hear me even if I couldn't hear you and I told you to call me back. You mean you didn't hear any of that?"

Jennifer doesn't say anything for several seconds, then she speaks, but in a hushed voice. "Brian, I didn't get any call earlier," she explains. "I just picked up my phone off the coffee table after Craig left - I was going to make some calls for work and had to scroll through my call log to find a number, and I saw there had been a call from Justin. That's why I called. I didn't get any call earlier."

"I . . . M-M-My phone was sitting out on the coffee table when Craig was here, Brian," she stammers. "I was in my robe when he arrived but I didn't feel comfortable talking to him like that so I went into my bedroom to change while he waited in the living room. The door was closed so I wouldn't have heard if the phone rang, anyway. The phone was sitting on the table the whole time, Brian."

The implication of what she's saying hits me then, hard. Fuck. Craig Taylor was the one who answered the call, not Jennifer. He heard me talking. I quickly review what I said in my mind - I'm sure I announced who I was and that I was calling Jennifer about Craig. I'm fucked! He's probably put it all together by now. Even an idiot like Craig will have figured out by now that I'm not merely some indifferent businessman who just happened to get him into this Hikaroshi mess.

And, the worst part of all - if Craig saw the caller ID when the call came in on Jennifer's phone, he knows about Justin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for an evil cliff hanger! Ha Ha! I'm really proud of the way this chapter came together, though. All my literary machinations are coming together nicely. I hope you all liked it too. If you didn't I'm sure I'll hear about it soon enough. Happy Reading. TAG


	37. Repercussions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was that a fabulous cliff hanger in the last chapter or what? I expected a lot more angry comments ordering me to post the resolution asap. But, since I didn't hear any, I just let you all stew. Hehehehe! Sorry, can't help that evil streak. But, since I just can't bear the thought of you all hanging out there any longer, so here it is - all the repercussions of Brian's evil machinations are coming back to bite him in the a**. Hope you enjoy! TAG

Chapter 37 - Repercussions.

Repercussions: An unintended consequence occurring some time after an event or action, esp. an unwelcome one.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

‘And, the worst part of all - if Craig saw the caller ID when the call came in on Jennifer's phone, he knows about Justin.’

Fuck. I can’t let Craig get to Justin. He’s not ready to deal with that. Even if Craig didn’t intend to do anything, even if they were to just bump into each other on the street, Justin couldn’t handle that. And now I may have just inadvertently set things up so that Craig will actually want to confront Justin. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Stop it, Kinney. You have to stop and think this through. How long has it been since that first phone call? Shit. It’s been at least a half hour now, maybe more. That’s a lot of time for Craig to decide what he’s going to do. But, what can he do? He has Justin’s phone number but nothing else. We can always change the phone number - that’s no big deal. He can’t use that to find the loft - it’s registered through Kinnetik.

But, Taylor definitely can find Kinnetik - the address is right on the fucking website, for fuck’s sake. Worse, he doesn’t even have to make that connection between Justin’s number and Kinnetik - he has the address for TelePhonix, Brian Kinney’s company, which just happens to be the same address as Kinnetik. If he can find me, he can find Kinnetik and Justin’s here at Kinnetik right now working. 

All I can think about is that I have to get Justin out of here as fast as possible.

“Ted,” I shout into the intercom. “Get Justin and get up here to my office immediately.”

Two minutes later, Ted and Justin come rushing into my office, both looking panicked by my call and my demeanor. Fuck, the last thing I want is to freak Justin out. I need to calm down and deal with this logically. 

“Justin, we’re leaving early today. I know I didn’t give you any warning, but something’s just come up. Can you go tell Cynthia to clear my calendar for the rest of the day. Tell her I’ll call her later to explain. And then wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be right out as soon as I give Ted some instructions.”

“Sure, Brian. But, what’s wrong? Why are we leaving now?” Justin asks.

“I’ll tell you in the car on the way, okay. We have to get going though, so please just wait in the lobby for me, okay?”

“Ted, the shit’s hit the proverbial fan, I’m afraid. I suspect that Craig Taylor has just put it all together and knows who I am and that I’m connected to Justin. He’s probably on the way here right now,” I confess to my friend as soon as Justin’s out of the office. “I have to get Justin out of here - he can’t see Craig Taylor. You think that panic attack back at Babylon was bad, I don’t even want to think what will happen if Justin meets Craig. I don’t think Craig can find the loft so we’ll go there and if that doesn’t seem safe, I’ll just take him to a hotel until I think of something.”

“Fuck, Brian. I didn’t think to use a drop box address on the TelePhonix documents. That way he couldn’t have found this place even if he had made the connection. Shit. I’m sorry, Brian,” Ted tries to apologize, but I don’t have time for it.

“It hardly matters now, does it? But, more importantly, I don’t trust Taylor. He’s got a violent streak to him. So, I need you to get on the phone to that security company we’ve used in the past for parties and photo shoots and get them hired right away. I want security here round the clock until further notice. I may also want someone to check out the security at the loft - they have consultants that can do that, so set that up too. I don’t want any employees leaving the building alone until the security is set up, you hear me. I don’t trust this guy at all."

“Got it, Boss,” Ted asserts. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think it all through yet. I’ll call you later okay and we can figure this out then. I just have to get Justin out of here before Craig shows up. You’re in charge of keeping the rest of Kinnetik safe for now.”

“Will do. Go on and get out of here.” Ted says as he follows me out the door.

“Come on, Sunshine,” I say, glad that Justin is right where he’s supposed to be, waiting for me in the lobby near the front door.

I grab Justin’s hand and practically jog through the door towards my parking space. Perks of being the boss, I have the first parking space - which means that at least we don’t have to traipse through a sea of cars before we’re at the Jeep and buckled safely inside. I start the car and pull out of the parking space, pulling out of the parking lot onto the street before I start to actually breathe again. I think I might have done it. I might have beat Craig.

As we pull up to the stoplight at the corner of Liberty Avenue, I lean over and pull Justin towards me to kiss him. I’m so relieved that I just can’t stop myself. I just want to know that he’s okay and that I haven’t screwed everything up. The kiss is hot and long and I think we miss the light when it changes because I hear a car behind us honking.

~~*~~  
Justin’s POV  
~~*~~

Brian has me really worried. Brian is never panicky or rash. He's always in control, even when he's out of control. But today when he called Ted and I into his office he was definitely panicking about something. And the fact that he wouldn't tell me what it was about makes me even more worried.

But I know enough not to make it worse by delaying him, asking too many questions or not following his directions. I know he'll tell me what's wrong as soon as he can. So I let him send me out of the room while he talks to Ted. I follow orders and relay the message to Cynthia. I even wait patiently for him in the lobby. But none of this makes we worry less.

Brian puts me into the passenger seat of the Jeep and actually buckles my seatbelt just like he would for Gus. Then he drives away from the building like it was on fire. He's breathing fast as if he'd just run a foot race and he keeps looking over at me, maybe expecting me to disappear? It's freaking me out, and the only thing keeping me from panicking too is that I'm not even sure what it is I'm supposed to be afraid of.

When we're a couple of blocks from the office, I think I finally see him relax a bit. He gives me a half smile and finally stops crushing my hand in his vice-like grip. At the stoplight, he leans towards me, hooking his hand around my neck and tugging me over to kiss him - which I take as a good sign. I hope this means that whatever upset him is finished.

As we kiss, Brian is facing mostly forward, his eyes half veiled but open just enough to see when the light changes. But the way he pulled me around, I'm facing towards the side and rear of the car. Which is why I can see the car behind us and it's driver, who seems to be acting strangely.

I first notice him when he honks his car horn, causing me to open my eyes even though I don't break the kiss. He seems to be gesturing wildly inside the car but the vehicle is just far enough away and it's a weird angle, so I'm not completely sure what he's saying or signaling. Whatever it is, though, he's very emphatic.

When he doesn't get whatever response he's waiting for, the driver stops honking and gesturing and begins to back up his car. I think maybe he's just going to go around us. Fine with me - I can go back to enjoying my kiss with Brian. But, for some reason, I don't close my eyes again.

That's why I see everything as the car comes barreling back towards us, speeding up as it nears. It all happens so fast. I only have time to yell, "Brian!" before the car has rammed into the rear of the Jeep, knocking both Brian and I forward into the rapidly deploying airbags.

But, for that brief period of time right as the collision happens, I look up at the driver of the other car, who I can see clearly since the car is now so close, and I see the sneering face of my father, Craig Taylor.

Then, it's all noise and pain and confusion and trying to get the air bag away from my face so I can see what's going on. The way Brian had been sitting, his body leaning towards me and slightly turned, I think the airbag hit him at an odd angle and he seems a bit stunned. Okay, maybe I look stunned too but I don't feel like it. Brian isn't moving very quickly though. As soon as I can get my air bag deflated enough to move my arms, I try to help him.

Then, I see out of the corner of my eye that the car which hit us is backing up again. I turn to watch thinking that my father the coward is going to flee the scene. The silly thought of trying to get his license plate when he drives away flashes through my brain. The car doesn't go very far though. As soon as he's pulled back about a half a block, he shifts out of reverse and comes gunning it back towards where we're still stopped.

There aren't any airbags this time. Brian is already hurt and this time he gets thrown right into the steering wheel as I watch helplessly. I'm twisted in my seat watching the car behind us, plus I'm in the passenger seat, so I just slam with my shoulder against the padded dashboard, which hurts like hell but doesn't really cause any major damage, at least not that I can tell right away. But Brian is unconscious and it looks like he's bleeding. I'm trying to get out of my seatbelt and move towards Brian when he comes to the passenger door and glares in at me. His presence alone causes me to freeze and I'm instantly helpless to do anything to protect myself.

"I should have known," he hisses at me through the crumbling safety glass. "On top of it all, you turn out to be a fag. Not only is my son a goddamned traitor, helping this scum and your slut of a mother to destroy me, but your a thrice damned faggot who's going to burn in the depths of hell for all eternity. I hope you enjoy your damnation you son of bitch pervert. You and this fucking pederast can rot in hell or, for that matter, just rot here on Earth as you slowly waste away from AIDS, for all I care. Oh, and you can tell your boyfriend when he wakes up - if he wakes up *he he he* - that I'll pay him his money back when Hell freezes over."

When he's done with his little speech, my father just stands there laughing at me. He's laughing like the sight in front of him - me frozen with fear while Brian is slumped unconscious at my side - is the funniest thing he's ever seen. Each little syllable of his laughter feels like a needle piercing through my skin, my heart, my brain. A million little individual wounds each trying to pierce through to my core where they will once more blow open the almost healed hole inside me.

Off in the distance I finally hear the sirens from approaching emergency vehicles. My father looks up briefly, noting the crowds of people gathering nearby, then he leans in through the window and spits right in my face with his most contemptuous sneer. When I do nothing to either stop him or avoid the flying spittle, he laughs again, then calmly walks away, gets back in his smashed car and drives away.

Of course I'm not really paying any attention anymore. Everything around me is turning grey and hazy. My field of vision is narrowing down as the tunnel of fear and pain closes in on me. I can hear myself wailing and crying, but the sound seems to be coming from outside me and from a long way away. And then it all goes black and I don't remember anything else for a long, long time.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

*Beep, beep*. *Beep, beep*. *Beep, beep*. "Pupils are dilated unevenly. Loss of consciousness more than fifteen minutes and counting. Grade three concussion. No obvious spinal cord or neck injuries. Possible broken wrist. Minor cuts, bruises. We're on our way - ETA five minutes."

The voice is loud. It grates and hurts my head. That fucking beeping noise is even worse. I wish they'd all just shut up and let me sleep.

"Second victim is male, approximately eighteen years old. He's conscious but non-responsive. No obvious head injuries. He appears to have an injury to his arm or shoulder but he's not cooperating with our examination so I'm not sure - probably a dislocated shoulder. Minor cuts and bruises. Exhibiting symptoms of severe PTSD."

Justin. It's Justin. The voice is talking about Justin. I just can't remember why that's important.

~~*~~

"Here. This one had ID on him. Name's 'Brian Kinney'. Don't know about the other one, couldn't find any ID on him," the grating voice says.

"Thanks. The cops are on their way. I hear it was a hit and run. They should be here any minute. You'll have to wait and give a statement," a second voice, much softer and less grating answers.

"Yeah. You done with that ID? I'd better give it to the cops when I talk to them," voice one says.

"Sure. Here you go," voice two replies and then I think I hear footsteps.

"Brian? Can you hear me? I'm Doctor Tamara Fields. Brian? If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand."

"He's drifting in and out, right now. Better get him down to imaging. I want an MRI and X-rays, both of the head and that left wrist."

~~*~~

"I'm sorry, officer. He's not fully conscious yet. I doubt he's going to be any help to you," voice two says, trying to stop several other voices from talking to me.

"Okay, doc. We'll come back and get a statement later. Here's my card. Please call if his condition changes," says a large, very loud voice.

"Of course. Any luck on finding us some ID on our other patient? He's completely uncooperative and we suspect psychological issues. At this point it looks like we won't be able to treat him without sedating him, but we don't have anyone to give consent," voice two asks.

"We found some papers in the Jeep. We think his name is Justin Taylor. We're working on locating next of kin for both Vic's now. I'll call you when I've got something definite, doc," says large voice.

Justin. It's Justin. I need to go help Justin. . .

~~*~~

"Mr. Kinney? Brian? It's Dr. Fields. Do you think you can answer a few questions for me?" it's soft voice again, and I now get that she's my doctor.

"Yes," I answer.

"Good. Now, can you tell me your full name?"

"Brian Kinney," I rasp out, my lips and mouth very dry.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Looks like a hospital to me," I answer.

"Very observant. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

That's a much tougher question. "No. Should I remember?"

"Well, yes, you probably should, but it's understandable why you can’t. You were in a car accident and you've sustained a severe concussion. It's what we doctors refer to as a Grade Three Concussion. It may take you quite some time to regain your memories and all functions. That's why I'm asking you these questions. Someone will be asking you similar questions periodically over the next twenty four hours until we're sure you fully okay. Do you understand?"

"I guess," I reply. "Why does my hand hurt?"

"I'm afraid you fractured your wrist. It's not a bad break though. You were relatively lucky. You'll have to keep it in this soft cast for about six weeks, but it should eventually be good as new," Dr. Soft Voice says. "Other than that, how do you feel?"

"My head feels like a Mack Truck ran over it. I kind of feel like I want to vomit. And, that light your flicking at me hurts my eyes," I tell her. "Are you sure I was in a car accident? This feels like my standard Sunday morning hangover."

"Ouch. Well, at least your sense of humor wasn't damaged in the accident," the doctor says, writing something on a clipboard as we speak. "Okay. That's it for now. I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you. Just try to rest and if you need anything the call button is over there."

She starts to leave and I'm already starting to drift off to sleep when she turns back and asks, "Just one more thing, Mr. Kinney. Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you - family, friends - to let them know you’re here and that you're okay?"

Thats when I get worried. There's someone that I do want here, I know it. But, I can't remember. I know that I should remember something important. Fuck. What am I forgetting?

"That's okay, Mr. Kinney. A concussion often causes confusion and short term memory problems. We expect it to improve with time. When you're ready, just let the nurse know and she’ll take care of that for you. I'll be back in a few hours."

The doctor is out the door and I'm trying to lie back and get comfortable without jogging my injured left wrist before I realize what the fuck is wrong here - Justin! Where is Justin?

Shit. If I'm in the hospital, where is Justin and who's taking care of him? Why isn't he here? He would be here wouldn't he, if he knew I was hurt? It doesn't make sense. Something is very wrong.

I start pressing the nurses' call button frantically. Nobody has come in yet though so I start to get up out of bed - I'll go find Justin myself. But, I'm only halfway to the door when a nurse comes in and wrangles me back to bed. I'm amazed at how weak I feel. She orders me to stay in bed, tells me that I could still get dizzy from the concussion and I might fall so I have to stay in bed. She won't shut up long enough for me to tell her what the problem is or why I was out of bed in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream at her, and immediately regret it because of how much it hurts my head.

It does get the babbling nurse's attention, though.

"I need you to find my cell phone for me. I need to call my partner. Something's wrong - he should be here if he knew I was hurt. I think something's wrong."

Babbling Nurse is just standing there glaring at me still. I'm pretty sure I'm speaking English. What part of that was so hard to understand?

"Please. His name is Justin Taylor," I try again, hoping Babbling Nurse can somehow understand me this time. "His number is . . . Fuck, I can't remember his phone number. It's in my cell phone though. Please just find him for me."

"I'll try, Mr. Kinney," she finally says with a sigh. "Justin, what was the last name again?"

"Taylor. Justin Taylor. Please hurry. I'm . . . I think something's wrong with him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, ha, ha! You get another cliff hanger! TAG a.k.a. The Evil Author.


	38. Deliverance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Continuing Adventures of Brian Kinney and his amazing pants free rescue attempt. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 38 - Deliverance.

Deliverance: The act of being set free or rescued from danger or bondage.

~~*~~  
Brian’s POV  
~~*~~

I must have fallen asleep after Babbling Nurse left. I don't remember. But, the young man that's in my room now has to wake me up to take my vitals, which means I fell asleep, right? His soft brown eyes are restful but there's something nagging at the back of my mind that I'm supposed to be doing. What am I forgetting?

Brown Eyes is giving me that look. If I didn't feel like shit right now I might even take him up on it. He's got a great ass - at least from what I can see through those baggy scrub pants. Not as great as Justin's of course, but then nobody can compare with that hot little bubble butt.

Justin! Fuck, what is wrong with me? I keep forgetting about Justin.

I grab Brown Eyes' wrist as he starts to leave. "My partner . . . That Babbling Nurse was supposed to call him for me. What happened? Where is he? Please, I need to find him."

"Sorry, Vicky's shift ended about an hour ago. She didn't say anything to me about trying to contact your partner. But I'll get right on it for you. What's his name?" Thankfully, Brown Eyes is a much better communicator than old Babs had been.

"His name is Justin Taylor. I still can't seem to remember his cell number but if you can find my phone for me it's in there. I don't know where he is. I'm worried that something's wrong - he'd be here if he knew I was hurt."

"No problem. Just relax. I'll figure out what's going on and if Vicky was able to contact him or not. Just sit tight and I'll be right back, okay," Brown Eyes says, squeezing my hand in a friendly way as he frees his wrist and leaves the room.

This time I'm not going to let myself sleep. I need to stay awake and not forget. I make myself sit up. When I start to get drowsy again, I figure I'd better get out of bed altogether before I lose it. I'm scooting towards the edge and just about to try to stand, when Brown Eyes comes back in. He gives me the same spiel about getting dizzy and falling, etc. But, fuck it. I don't care about that.

"What about Justin? Shut the fuck up about the dizziness and tell me about Justin," I order Brown Eyes, who looks a little abashed when I say Justin's name - he knows something.

"Mr. Taylor was in the car accident with you, Mr. Kinney. Don't you remember?" he asks and my heart almost drops out of my chest from the fear that statement engenders.

"Is he . . . Is he okay?" I ask, scared shitless at the possible answer.

"He's doing better, from what I could find out. He's still here at the hospital, too. He wasn't as badly injured as you, but it seems he was . . . He refused to cooperate with the doctors. He wouldn't let anyone treat him. They had to sedate him and he's been admitted to the psych ward for evaluation," Brown Eyes finally spits it all out.

"The psych ward? Why? He doesn't like doctors, but I could have talked him through it. Who put him in the psych ward? He won't do well there. I need to see him. I need to straighten this out."

I start to get up again, but Brown Eyes stops me. "Mr. Kinney. Brian. You can't see him. He's been signed into the ward for a 72 hour evaluation. He's not allowed visitors. It's the rules."

"Fuck that. Who ordered this evaluation? I want to talk to the doctor who did this. It's totally unnecessary. If I could just see him, I know he'll be fine."

"If you promise me that you won't try to get out of bed again. I'll go page his treating physician for you. But only if you promise to stay put," Brown Eyes offers and of course I have no choice but to agree.

~~*~~

It's been almost an hour and Justin's doctor still hasn't shown up. I'm not going to wait much longer. I can't just sit here and wait while Justin's locked up somewhere. No one will tell me anything and I'm starting to get really, really pissed off.

I hit the call button again and Brown Eyes come back in with his apologetic look.

"I paged Dr. Kauffe a second time for you, Brian, but I'm afraid he still hasn't called back. I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm tired of waiting. I'm going down there myself and I'll figure this out one way or another. Now, you can either just stand there and watch me - I might get dizzy and fall or something and then you can rest assured I WILL sue the hospital - or you can help me get to Justin by taking me down there in a wheelchair. Your choice, Brown Eyes. But, either way I'm not waiting around here any longer."

"I'll get the chair," he accedes a little too easily - I think Brown Eyes is sweet on me.

Ten minutes later Brown Eyes is wheeling me up to a desk outside a set of large double doors. There's a large woman seated behind the desk who looks like she would have fit in well in any eastern block Olympics team from the cold war era. Fuck. Her biceps are almost as big around as my thighs. I'm really hoping this doesn't come down to me having to physically push my way through those doors, because she could take me, easy.

"Hey, Cece," Brown Eyes says to the Behemoth. "This is Brian Kinney, the guy I told you about. We've been paging Dr. Kauffe for more than an hour now without any response. Brian's really worried about his partner. What can you tell us?"

"Nothing. Dr. Kauffe hasn't checked in with me either. He's supposed to be on call tonight, but if you ask me, I'd bet he just turned his pager off and is catching up on his beauty rest," the Behemoth says with a large guffaw.

"Can I just see Justin for a few minutes? I only want to see if he's okay," I try the Kinney charm, but I'm not sure it'll work on this mountain of a woman. "This concussion has me a bit scrambled still and I can't remember the accident at all. I only want to see him and once I know for sure he's okay, I'll be able to rest. Won’t you please help me, Cece?"

"Sorry. It'd be my job if I did that. No visitors. No exceptions," the Behemoth croaks back at me.

"Fine. Can you at least tell me who ordered this 72 hour psych evaluation thing? Did some doctor order it? Doesn't Justin have to consent to something like this unless it's a medical emergency or something? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Come on, Cece. You can look in the file for us for that much, can't you?" Brown Eyes adds his plea to mine. "We don't even have to look in the file ourselves. You just look up this little bit of info and maybe inadvertently let it slip in conversation to me and maybe a patient like Mr. Kinney accidentally overhears. . . "

"Okay, Jason. But you owe me," the Behemoth finally gives in to Brown Eyes, aka Jason.

She pulls out a binder from the cabinet behind her and spends thirty seconds looking at it. She frowns. She looks up at me and then back down at the binder. Then she closes up the book and replaces it in the cabinet.

"It looks like the patient was non-responsive when he arrived at the hospital and he wouldn't let the ER doctors treat him. The hospital contacted his next of kin, a Craig Taylor - the boy's father according to the file notes. Dad was the one who authorized the doctors to sedate him and asked for the psych eval."

"Holy Fuck!" I'm yelling before the Behemoth is even done with her explanation. "Give me your phone," I demand of her. "I need a phone right this fucking instant. Give. Me. Your. Fucking. Phone."

I'm sort of surprised when she gives in and hands me the phone so easily. I guess I'm scarier than a Behemoth right now.

"Ted, it's Brian . . . I don't give a fuck what time it is, Theodore. I'm in the hospital. Justin was hurt too. We were in a car accident, but that's not important. I need Justin's Power of Attorney form right away. Didn't you file it with Allegheny General already? Well, they must have lost it or something. The asswipes here contacted Craig Taylor as his next of kin instead of me. . . Yeah, it's pretty much Justin's worst nightmare come true. Craig had him fucking committed. . . No. I'm not fucking kidding. They won't let me in to even see Justin. I need that form right now. The original is in my safe at the office. Get it and get down here. I'll be in the administrative offices at whoever's desk I need to be at to shove the fucking POA down their throats in order to get Justin out of there. Thanks Ted."

"Brown Eyes, wheel me to the admin offices please," I order. "Thank you, Cece. I'll be right back as soon as I get your fucking bosses fired."

~~*~~

Ted is here in record time with the POA in hand. The hospital security guard, who was called down to the hospital's front desk when Ted threw a fit after being told he wouldn't be allowed to come meet me since it was after visiting hours, brings him right to the Patient Advocate's office where I'm waiting. The PA looks at the document for ten seconds, scans it into the computer database and then hands it back to me. 

"Well, Mr. Kinney. It looks like you were right," PA Sorryass says with a sickly sweet conciliatory smile. "I'm so sorry about the confusion. Clearly, you do have a valid POA and have every right to rescind the psych evaluation request. I'll get right on that paperwork for you. As soon as Dr. Kauffe signs off on it, we will release Mr. Taylor into your care."

"No. You will not 'get on the paperwork' or wait till Dr. Missing-in-action shows up to 'sign off on it'," I tell her in my seriously pissed off voice - the one my employees know to cower from when they hear it. "YOU will be coming with me right now back up to the psych ward and YOU will personally get Justin out of there NOW. Do you understand? You can do the fucking paperwork later. But Justin isn't spending even one more second locked up in your psych ward."

"Let's go, Brown Eyes," I tell my charioteer. "PA Sorryass, are you ready?"

Somehow it works. PA Sorryass follows behind as Brown Eyes pushes my chair towards the bank of elevators. Theodore follows the PA and, just for good measure, the security guard brings up the rear. This little parade should do the trick, I figure, as we head back to talk to Cece the Behemoth.

And, I do it all while dressed in one of those ultra-thin hospital gowns with my ass hanging out the back.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

My right shoulder hurts. It hurts a lot. Why? I try to move to reach it with my left hand but I can't. I can't move my left arm at all.

My head feels fuzzy. I have a dull pounding headache too, but the ache in my head isn't nearly as bad as the ache in my shoulder. I open my eyes but I can't see much - they're as fuzzy as my head. If I could move my arm I could rub the fuzziness away from my vision, but I can't so I guess I just can’t see. I just have to wait, I guess. Hopefully someone will come help me soon.

~~*~~

"Justin? Hello there. I thought you might be waking up. I'm Dr. Kauffe. How are you feeling?" a tall, thin, dark blob says to me

"My shoulder hurts and I can't get my arms free," I tell the Doctor.

"Your arm was dislocated in the car accident. Do you remember the car accident, Justin," the Doctor blob asks me.

The car accident? I don't remember any accident. I remember another car ramming into the Jeep twice, but it wasn't any accident. It was done on purpose by my father. But, if that's what the doctor is referencing, then, yes, I remember that.

"Yes," I give him the short answer.

"Good. Very good, Justin. Now, Do you remember what happened when you arrived at the hospital?" the doctor asks next.

"No." I don't remember anything between the Jeep and when I first woke up, which I think wasn't that long ago.

"You refused to let either the paramedics or the ER doctors treat you. When they tried to touch you to examine your shoulder, you shouted at them not to touch you and you struck out at them even. You don't remember that?" the doctor person asks - his voice is starting to annoy me the way it's so condescending.

"No, I don't remember that," I answer, wondering if I should tell him a little more in the hopes of getting him to give me more info in return. "I don't like doctors much and sometimes I get sort of panicky when I think about them. Maybe I was just panicking."

"That was more than just a little panicky, Justin. And, I'm concerned that you say you don't remember what happened. Do you often have memory lapses?" he asks in an even more demeaning tone, and I decide I'm really not comfortable with this doctor person.

"Where's Brian?" I ask instead.

"Brian who?" he asks back.

"Brian Kinney. He's my . . . He was in the car with me. Is he alright?" I need to get to Brian and away from this person asking me questions.

"I'm sorry, Justin. I don't know anything about this Brian Kinney. I can check on him later for you. But right now, I need you to talk to me some more. Your doctors and your father have both agreed that your behavior is a bit erratic and they've asked me to see if I can help you. So, can you please just answer my question, do you often have lapses in your memories?"

One thing he said sticks in my thoughts - 'your doctors and your father' he said. My father? My father is here? This man is talking to me because my father asked him to? My FATHER? Fuck. I need to get out of here, now!

I try again to get my left arm free, but it won't budge. There is something holding it down. I crane my neck up and I can see that there are leather belts strapped across my chest holding me down. Fuck. I have to get out of here. I have to get away. Why am I tied up here? Where is Brian and why won't they let me talk to him? I have to get free. I can't stay here. My father will find me. I have to get free.

"Justin, I can see you're getting agitated. I need for you to calm down. You'll hurt your shoulder again if you keep struggling like that. Please, Justin, calm down and relax," the Doctor is saying to me.

I try to be calm. It's difficult because the feel of the leather straps on my arms reminds me of bad things. But if I can stay calm, maybe I can explain and he'll let me see Brian. Brian will help me. Brian will explain to him what I can't say. I have to stay calm till Brian gets here.

"I need Brian. Please. Brian will explain," I tell this doctor.

And then, I remember the paper about the medical decisions. I chose Brian to be my person. He's supposed to make medical decisions for me. The doctor should know about that - why doesn't he know about that paper - I forget what it's called, but didn't Brian tell me that it was filed with all the local hospitals in case I was ever hurt so they'd know to call Brian, not my father?

"I have a paper. It's says you're supposed to call Brian Kinney if I'm hurt," I try telling this doctor. "The hospital is supposed to have it. Please, just call Brian. He's supposed to make my medical decisions. I need Brian."

"Do you mean a Power of Attorney Designation? Hmm? Well, there's nothing in your file about a POA. It says here that the hospital showed no POA on file and had to contact your next of kin, Craig Taylor, for treatment authorization," the doctor says, looking in a book while he speaks.

I'm trying to stay calm. I'm trying the breathing exercises that Brian showed me from Ben's research. Breathing is supposed to keep you calm when you have to face a trigger. That's what all the papers said. It's not working though. I need to get free and get out of here.

"Brian!" I'm yelling now - I can hear myself but I can't stop it.

"Justin, please try and calm down. Okay? I'll go check again with the records department for any POA you might have. I'll be right back. Just try to stay calm until then."

I wish Brian were here already. I'm trying to stay calm, but its not easy. Where is he? He wouldn't just leave me in a place like this. Would he? He wouldn't. I know he'd be here if he could.

Shit. Maybe he's too badly hurt to be here. I remember in the Jeep, he was bleeding and he wasn't conscious. I don't remember what happened after that, though. I hope he's okay. What if he's badly hurt?

"Brian, please don't be hurt. Please. I need you. Brian," I'm sort of chanting it now, a combination of prayer and pleading, directed to whatever person or power or god might be listening.

"You stupid little faggot perv. What are you doing, crying for your faggot boyfriend to come save you?" I hear a nasty, angry voice say close beside my ear and I open my eyes to see the last person I ever wanted to see again in my life standing next to my hospital bed. "He can't save you now, Justin. He's fighting for his own life right now down in the ER. So, that means you're stuck with me. I hope he dies. You know what I'm going to do to you then? *He he he* I can't wait to show you, faggot. And, when I'm done with you and your pederast boyfriend, I'll show that bitch, your mother, a thing or two as well. How dare you try to get revenge on me. I'll show you what happens to faggots and traitors - just as soon as I get you out of here and back home. Just wait and see Justin. Wait and see.

"Mr. Taylor, there you are. I'm so glad you haven't yet left the hospital," I can hear the doctor's voice saying as he comes back towards my bed. "There's been a question about your son having a Power of Attorney appointing someone to make medical decisions for him. I can't find anything in the hospital's records, though. Do you know if Justin has a POA?"

"Not to my knowledge," my father tells the doctor.

"Oh well. I'll just continue then according to your authorization," the doctor states.

"Please do, doctor. I want you to keep Justin here as long as you need to. You have my full authorization to do whatever you want to do to treat him," my father says, smiling down on me from above. "Bye, Justin. Good luck."

I'm not sure what happens after that. The last thing I remember is my father's sneering face as he walks backwards away from my bed, waving a little mocking goodbye as he leaves.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Cece hands PA Sorryass Justin's chart as we all file through the now unlocked doors of the psych ward.

"He's in room 32C. Which should be this way," PA says turning to the right down one long hallway. "Yes, here we are. Cece, can you unlock this room for us?"

Fuck. It's worse than I thought. They've got him strapped to the bed with leather restraints. His right arm is trussed up in some sling that is restricting his movement on that side, while one leather band goes across his chest and another across his stomach. His left wrist and both ankles are tied to the bed rails with padded leather cuffs. Essentially, the only part of his body that he can move is his head.

It's completely unnecessary, though. I can tell from the way he's staring blankly at the ceiling that he's not really here at all right now. He's gone, disappeared, the way he only gets in the depths of his worst panic attacks. He couldn't move right now anyways, so what's with the fucking restraints?

"Justin," I moan at the pitiful sight.

I stand up, ignoring Brown Eyes' objections and almost run across the room to Justin's bed so I can immediately start to remove the restraints. Ted is right behind me and he helps by taking off the ankle cuffs while I'm removing the wrist cuff and large straps. As soon as Justin is free, I get up in the bed with him and gather him into my arms.

I stay that way for a long time, heedless of the five people staring at us. I don't care. All I can focus on is Justin and somehow getting through to him so he knows I'm here now. But, what can I do to help him when he's basically disappeared?

"Hey there, Sunshine," I whisper to him,saying the usual nonsense I always babble when he's like this. "Time to wake up now. I need to get you out of here. You've gotta help me though, Sunshine. You've got to wake up and show me that big sunshiney smile of yours so I know it's all gonna be okay. . . "

After a while of this my audience starts to dissipate. PA Sorryass leaves first with the security guard in tow, saying that she needs to get going on that paperwork. Then Cece takes off to do whatever large heavy tasks her job requires of her. Ted holds out a little longer but I send him home when his yawns threaten to split his face in two. He says he'll go by the loft in the morning and be back with clothing for both of us first thing.

Brown Eyes finally interrupts saying that it's time for me to return to my room, too. Apparently it's almost time for my doctor to do her rounds and she'll be more than pissed off at Brown Eyes if I'm AWOL when she gets there. He's been great to me all night, pushing my chair wherever I order and helping me out with Cece and PA when he could. I don't want to get him in trouble. But I'm not leaving Justin either.

I concede by starting to get up out of the bed with Justin still in my arms. I'm still not feeling incredibly strong though and I don't want to drop him or fall myself. All I can do is scoot us both to the edge of the bed and then steady Justin while I quickly move into the wheelchair. Then I pull him onto my lap. Thankfully, even after all these weeks of trying to feed him up, he's still thin and small, so both of us together in the chair are still pretty manageable for Brown Eyes. The last thing I do is pull the blanket off the bed and wrap it around Justin to keep him warm.

"We're ready, Brown Eyes," I inform my driver. "Back to my room, please."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm back in my bed as if I'd never left and Brown Eyes is about to leave. Justin is curled up next to me. I think maybe he's sleeping now - normal sleep finally. Altogether it was a fairly successful rescue mission.

"Hey, Brown Eyes," I say as he's about to leave. "You were an excellent sidekick tonight. Thanks. I couldn't have saved the princess without you."

"You're welcome, Brian. It was a kick. It was the funnest shift I've had in years. I hope Justin's okay."

"Me too. But, without you, he definitely wouldn't be okay, so thanks again."

Brown Eyes leaves and I finally let myself rest knowing that I have Justin back, finally and I think he’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all of you are feeling better now. No more cliff hangers. But, the sad thing is that this story is almost over now. Boo Hoo! TAG


	39. Confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you 'Hate Craig' folks, this ones' for you. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 39 - Confrontation. 

Confrontation: A hostile or argumentative meeting or situation between opposing parties.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"Good morning Mr. Kinney . . . And Mr. Kinney's friend, too, apparently," a soft female voice says, dragging me closer towards consciousness.

"Morning, Doc. This is Justin," Brian's voice says in reply. "Your night nurse here, Brown Eyes, got him for me. I've never been much for getting flowers or balloons or that type of shit when I'm sick, but I've gotta say, a hot little blond in my bed is a great get well present. I think I'll keep him."

"I'll just note on your chart that your sense of humor is still fine," the female voice says with a chuckle. "Now, Mr. Kinney, if you can answer some more questions for me, we'll see what we can do about getting you out of here so you can take your get well gift home."

I sort of listen after that while the woman asks Brian a lot more questions like what his name was, did he remember the car accident, who was president, what year it was, and more. None of it seemed very important so I didn't really pay attention. After all the questions, the doctor makes Brian move off the bed for a time - I guess to see if could stand up and walk without getting dizzy or falling - which I don't like because I miss his warmth when he's gone.

"Well, that's much better than yesterday, Mr. Kinney. I'm prepared to go ahead and release you, provided there's someone who will be responsible to watch you for the next 48 hours to ensure you don't have a return of any of the symptoms. Bed rest only till the 48 hours is up and no driving. Is that acceptable?" says the doctor finally.

"No problem. I suspect that as soon as my surrogate mom hears about all this, she'll be down here and will gladly take on the role of watchdog, regardless of whether or not I need one. And I swear on a stack of pancakes that I won't drive. Now, can I go home?" Brian responds jokingly.

"I'll get your discharge paperwork started," the doctor says. "Now, how about your get well present, here? What's his status and what bed is he suppose to be in?"

"He's always supposed to be in MY bed, of course. As to his 'status', well, PA Sorryass was supposed to have had his release papers done last night. I don't know what happened to them. But, regardless, Justin isn't going anywhere out of my sight, so don't get any ideas, doc," Brian warns her.

"Okay, okay. I was just asking. I'll see if my assistant can track down his discharge while he's working on yours, Mr. Kinney," the doctor says. "Just take it easy for the next few days, and you should be fine. No more car accidents or other head trauma for a few days though."

"I'll do my best, doc."

I hear the doctor leaving after that and then I feel Brian climbing back up onto the bed behind me.

"You can open up those baby blues now, Sunshine. She's gone and I know you're awake," he says to me with a kiss to my temple.

I smile but shake my head to indicate I'm not ready to be officially awake yet. I don't like hospitals and I don't want to even look at one until we're ready to leave. "Twat," is all Brian says as he spoons around me to hold me while we wait for our paperwork. I fall back to sleep in Brian's arms.

~~*~~

"For Christ's sake, Brian. What the hell were you thinking? You and Justin have been in the hospital for a whole day and you didn't think to call anyone or let me know what happened?" the large, loud, motherly voice of Debbie Novotny wakes me up from a lovely dream of spending a leisurely Sunday morning in bed with Brian.

"Jeeze, Deb. I have a fucking concussion and I couldn't even stay awake for more than twenty minutes at a time, yesterday. How the hell was I supposed to call you?" Brian grouses right back at her affectionately.

"Well you called Ted, who by the way didn't call me either until 8:00 am this morning." Deb complains.

"Yeah, well, I only had my one phone call and I needed to use it to spring Justin. Is that coffee?" Brian becomes distracted as Debbie pulls a large thermos out of her capacious bag along with a slightly squished take out box.

"You got it, kiddo. And I brought you some lemon bars, too. Here you go. Wake up, Sunshine," Debbie orders. "You need to get some real food in you, too. The shit they feed you in the hospital will kill you."

So I guess I finally have to 'officially' wake up after all - you don't tell Debbie 'no' in a situation like this. She wouldn't listen even if you tried. I tentatively open my eyes and see both Brian and Debbie staring down at me with concern.

"That's my boy, Sunshine," Debbie says, beaming smiles at me. "Now, sit up and I'll give you a cup of this and a lemon bar. Oh, you poor thing, I didn’t know you'd hurt your arm, too. Help him sit up, Brian."

Brian waves his left wrist at her showing off the soft cast he's sporting. "Not supposed to lift, Deb. I already tweaked it last night on our little nocturnal rescue mission and it's killing me. I'm not going to go around lifting Justin today too. If you want him sitting up, you'll have to help him yourself, Deb."

"Oh, sorry kiddo. I didn't see the wrist, there. Shit, you boys really did get banged up, and not in a good way, either! *Ha!*" Debbie says as she bundles over and manhandles me into a more upright position, only bumping my injured shoulder twice in the process.

By the time Deb has us both upright and fully supplied with coffee and treats, Ted and Emmett have arrived bringing with them a duffle bag full of clothes for us. Brian changes immediately - all the while listening to Ted regaling the group with humorous anecdotes from the prior evening about Brian's pants-free antics. Apparently that saying that 'the clothes make the man' isn't at all true, considering what Brian was able to accomplish wearing only a hospital gown. As soon as he's dressed, Brian helps me pull on some sweat pants, too, but we hold off on a shirt because my shoulder hurts too much to move.

Soon after, the rest of the family shows up - Michael and Ben, then Lindz and Mel with Gus in tow. How they all fit in this tiny room, I have no idea. But it feels good to have so many people who care about me near. I don't even have to say anything because of all the commotion, and I just sit there and soak in the feel of 'family' - my real family.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Justin still hasn't said anything, which is kind of worrying me. We both fell asleep last night as soon as I got him back here with me. He seems to be better this morning - he at least responds when someone speaks to him, he's sitting up, eating, even smiling - but he hasn't said a word. I feel like we're back to square one with that sad, scared boy I first saw in a hospital bed in this very same hospital. Shit.

Having the whole family here is exhausting, too. Don't get me wrong, it was great that they all came to show us their support - I could tell how much Justin likes having them here, almost like he felt safer with their numbers around him. But, they do wear you out with all their care and concern and coddling. At least, I know they wear me out and Justin looks even worse than me by the time the Babbling Nurse shoos them all away.

By virtue of the fact that he has the biggest car, Ted is elected to hang out and wait with us till the discharge paperwork is completed then he'll drive us back to the loft. Debbie will be over with food and more food and TLC later, after her shift at the Diner. But everyone else is ordered to disperse for the time being.

I'm feeling a lot better and I'm ready to get out of here. Why the hell does it always seem to take so long to get out of a hospital? It's not that there aren't plenty of other sick and injured people for the doctors to play with, but they just seem to want to hold on to the ones they already have. I think Justin will be better away from hospitals and doctors too. So . . . Where are the fucking discharge papers?

But, before the discharge papers arrive, the door to the room is slammed open and someone else, much less welcome, comes barreling into my room. Craig Taylor. He's already angry before I even say anything. His face is such a dark red that it's almost purple. He's gritting his teeth and scowling and reminds me of a cartoon bull I saw once with its face all screwed up in anger right before it charged at a cartoon matador.

"What the Hell gives you the right to take my son out of the treatment facility where I put him?" is the first thing screamed by Craig as he moves towards the bed where both Justin and I are sitting.

I jump up immediately to stand between him and Justin. No way is he getting past me. Out of the corner of my eye, I also see Ted moving up to stand behind me - my friend willing to stand with me to protect one of our own.

"First of all, Craig, Justin didn't need to be in that 'treatment facility' as you call it - although it looked more like a torture facility to me - he's not going to get better being locked in his room and tied to a bed. Secondly, the law gives Me the right to make any medical decisions for him, not you. I've got a valid POA and I get to say what care Justin needs from now on," I tell him, trying to maintain an even tone of voice. "And, finally, Craig, you're the one who has no rights at all where it comes to Justin. So, you need to just leave, now, before you do something else really stupid and get yourself in more trouble than you already are."

"Fuck you and your goddamned POA shit. He's my son and I'll say what's right for him, not some pederast like you, Kinney," Craig spits into my face.

"Leave now, Taylor, or I'll call security and get you thrown out," I say, already motioning to Ted to push the call button for me.

"Oh, so what - you've already ruined my business, taken away my livelihood and corrupted my wife - now you're going to take my son away from me, too? Fuck you, Kinney!" Craig yells, clearly long beyond reason.

"I didn't have to take your son, Craig. You threw him away like trash," I'm screaming back now, unable to hold back my anger any longer. "You tortured him until he was broken and then you threw him out with the garbage. You don't deserve to have a son, let alone a son as talented, intelligent and wonderful as Justin."

"And I'm going to show you exactly what that felt like for him, Craig," I tell him, finally revealing to him everything I have planned. "I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to take away everything you own and think you hold dear. Then I'm going to throw you out like the garbage you are and piss on while you lay in the gutter. See how you like it when you're homeless and friendless, living under some fucking bridge."

"Goddamned fucking faggot," Craig explodes and follows up his words with his fist, slamming it into my jaw and dropping me to my ass in one blow.

That's when all hell breaks loose in that tiny little hospital room. I'm still dazed by that first punch - so much for my promise to the doctor not to sustain any more blows to my head, huh? And before I can pull my scrambled wits together, Craig is on me, kicking me in the stomach and side and bending to add a punch to my head and upper body every so often as well. Behind him, Ted has rushed to the door and is yelling for help down the corridor. I can hear the commotion in the hallway as multiple people come yelling and running to find out what the emergency is all about.

Then, from behind me, up on the bed, I hear Justin yell "Stop!" And, before anyone's able to stop him, Justin's up, out of the bed and screaming obscenities at his father while simultaneously trying to pull him off me and hit him, all with one arm tied at his side. He's like my very own one-armed blond pit bull.

It takes not only Justin, but a nurse, two orderlies and one latecomer security guard to pull Craig off me. The three men drag Craig out of the room while the nurse and Justin run to me to help me. The nurse is trying to make me lie still on the ground until she can get a doctor to look at me, but Justin is tugging at my arm trying to get me up off the ground. Fuck the nurse, Justin is the one I want so I let him help me up and then I just stand there holding onto him while we let the chaos spin around us.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Something inside me just snapped when I saw my father kicking and hitting Brian. Twenty years of being suppressed, abused, neglected and tortured by that man disappeared. I wasn’t going to let him hurt Brian. I finally fought back and it felt really, really good. 

If I’d had both arms, I think I might have actually even done some damage to the asshole. As it was, I was pretty much useless. If it hadn’t been for the orderlies and the security guard, both Brian and I would likely have been ground to a pulp by him. I think his insanity added to his strength or something because my father isn’t really that big of a man, but watching him today, he looked like a fucking tornado set loose on Brian. But, even if I had no effect on the outcome of the fight, it still felt wonderful to let myself fight back for once.

The police were there actually before a doctor showed up to look at Brian’s new injuries. It seems that the police assigned to investigate yesterday’s car ‘accident’ were on their way to talk to Brian at the time that Craig decided to pull his Muhammed Ali imitation. The cops had apparently been looking for my father anyway - there were too many people watching while he rammed into our car twice in broad daylight for him to even think he would get away with it. The police were more than happy to arrest Craig on the spot and promptly took him out of the hospital in handcuffs. 

One of the officers took everyone’s statement while the other waited with Craig for a prisoner transport car downstairs. Brian told the officer about the assault (without adding the other revelations I’d heard him make about how he was working to drag my father to financial ruin). His statement was backed up by Ted. Then it was my turn.

I’ve never talked to a police officer ever in my life. Fuck, I can barely talk to Debbie to order my breakfast at the Diner sometimes. I didn’t think I could do it. But then I looked over at the chair in the corner where a doctor was examining Brian’s ribs while he held a cloth to his mouth to stop the bleeding from his torn lip, and I felt the anger inside me erupt. Craig Taylor - I’d never call that monster my ‘father’ again - was not going to get away with this. I could do this. I would tell the police everything. I would tell them enough that Craig Taylor would go to jail for a very long time.

So I started talking. I told the officer about the assault today. I told him about Craig ramming into the Jeep and how he came up to me afterwards and gloated about it. I told him how Craig came to my room at the hospital and said that he had intended and hoped that Brian would die. I told him about how he had told the doctors lies about me in order to keep me there against my will. I told him about how he had tortured and abused me as a child and how I only escaped when Craig finally got tired of playing with me and threw me out of the house. I told the officer about the statements Craig made about Brian and I being gay - that this was a hate crime as well as just an assault due to his personal feelings of anger towards Brian and me. I told the police everything, while I watched a plastic surgeon stitch Brian’s torn lip and a cut on his cheek.

And, I wasn’t afraid any longer of Craig or what he could do to me. I wasn’t going to let him make me afraid ever again.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Fuck Craig Taylor. Not only did he beat the shit out of me and cause me even more pain than I was already in from the car crash, but because he hit me in the head while I was still suffering from yesterday’s concussion, the doctor is making me stay in the hospital another night. I wouldn’t mind so much if it were just me, but I don’t want Justin to have to be here any longer than he has to and I don’t think I will be able to talk him into going home without me. 

Right now he’s being kind of sweet, bustling around taking care of me like a mini-Debbie. He’s already been downstairs twice - the first time to get me yogurt from the cafeteria because it hurts too much with my sore jaw and the stitches on my lip to eat solid food, and the second time to get me some magazines to read (which I didn’t need but he really wanted to do something so I had to give him some task). He’s run down the hall to get me ice chips from the nurse’s station and he even actually tried to fluff my pillows - not easy to do with only one hand. My own little Florence Nightingale - I’m thinking I might be able to talk him into giving me a sponge bath next if we can only get rid of the real nurses.

But, in spite of the problems, the pain and the embarrassment caused by having my ass kicked by the likes of Craig Taylor - I’m using the concussion as my excuse for any poor fighting performance issues - there is one good thing that came out of all this. Justin is talking again. In fact, he’s talking so much I’m not sure we can ever shut him up again. I listened in amazement as he told the police officer everything he’d been through in the past few days - Craig’s taunting and snide comments and every kind of disrespect possible towards his son. Then, Justin went on and told the cop about his childhood and all the abuse and torture and everything. He even told this stranger things he hadn’t told me yet. I was amazed. And horrified, as I always am whenever Justin gives me a glimpse of his childhood hell. But mostly I was just relieved that he’s finally able to talk about it all more freely and I hope this is a sign of better things ahead.

The cops were elated with Justin’s disclosures. They said that they would be taking the case to the district attorney later today but they expected the charges against Craig to include attempted murder, assault, assault with a deadly weapon (i.e., the car), fraud and even, possibly, commission of a hate crime under federal statutes. They didn’t know if the DA would prosecute for the child abuse because of the long lapse in time between the commission of the acts and now, but, even that is possible they said. And, with the almost overwhelming evidence against Craig, it doesn’t look like a conviction will be very difficult. According to the one detective I was speaking with, Craig’s only hope is to plea bargain the sentence down to something bearable - like ten years.

It doesn’t matter to me. My plans are already well underway. I couldn’t actually stop the Apple attorneys from reaming Craig for the patent infringement and fraud matters even if I wanted to. And, according to Ted, we got the court authorization to put our receiver into Taylor Electronics just this morning. That means that for all intents and purposes, I’m now running Craig’s business. I figure that I’ll hold onto it until I’ve had a chance to explain everything to Justin. Then he can decide what he wants to do with it - it’s really his inheritance so he should decide. I’m leaning towards just liquidating the company and letting Justin have all the money we can collect from it that isn’t taken by creditors. Besides, I don’t see Justin as the Electronics Store Mogul, type. 

The bottom line is that Craig Taylor is finished. His business is mine. He’s facing criminal charges for the assaults on me and Justin and maybe for the child abuse too. And, he’s hopelessly embroiled in a huge federal civil suit that will eat up any resources he might have left after I’m through with him. If he escapes from this with more than the clothes on his back, I’ll be amazed. And it couldn’t have happened to a shittier guy.

I feel my work here is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! Schmoopy to the limit. Hope you all enjoy the romantic, happy resolution. Next, a little wrap up. And, of course a little more smut, since I've been remiss in the sex scene department lately. Sorry. More soon, TAG!


	40. Trusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it so hard to write the end of a story? There's this almost physical aversion to sitting down at the computer to write the story after you get through the big climax. I did manage to write a bit more, but I'm still not quite done yet. Mostly, I just felt like writing lots and lots of smut so I could avoid finishing the plot. I know you will all hate that, but oh well. Enjoy! TAG.
> 
> **** Chapter dedicated to Erin Kasa - the only person desperate enough to complain that I'd taken toooooo long to post additional chapters. If you enjoyed this chapter, please thank Erin! *****

Chapter 40 - Trusting.

Trusting: Inclined to rely on the integrity, strength or abilities of another; confident in the expectation of something; hopeful.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I know Brian wants me to go home and get some real rest, but I’m not leaving him. Ever. He doesn’t yet know that part of if, but he will soon. I’ve pretty much resolved to stay with him for the rest of my life. There’s no need to get into it right now, he’ll figure it out eventually and I don’t want to freak him out, but it’s pretty much a done deal. 

I heard what Jason, the nurse Brian calls Brown Eyes, said about Brian adamantly demanding that they help him find his ‘partner’. I really like the sound of that. Maybe Brian wasn’t really serious about the idea behind the term - he was likely just using the only word to describe our relationship that he could come up with in the circumstances, but still, he did say we were ‘partners’. I know I wasn’t really ready for anything like that before, that I didn't trust him that way yet, but now . . . well, I think I like the idea. A lot.

So, I’m not going home tonight to sleep alone in our bed. I’m staying right here. I’m going to take care of Brian. And, I’m even going to give him that sponge bath he keeps joking about, just as soon as I can get rid of Jason, who keeps hovering in Brian's room without any real justification. Jason is nice and he did help rescue me, but he’s way too interested in Brian for my taste. Time to get rid of Brown Eyes.

I decide that I'm going to need some assistance so I grab my cell phone - Ted brought over both my phone and Brian's this afternoon saying that the cleaning service had found them both in Brian's office last night - and I tap on Emmett's name in my contact list, letting my phone autodial his number for me. Em is thrilled with my little plan and says he'll be right over. I warn him to avoid going through the security at the hospital's front desk, since it's technically after visiting hours. Emmett tells me not to worry because he's got a friend who works at the hospital who can get him up to Brian's floor, no problem - thank god for Emmett and all his many, many 'friends'.

Brian is napping again - the concussion causes him to be drowsy - so I just wait outside the room for Em. It's only a few minutes before I see Emmett getting off the elevator with a tall orderly who has bright curly red hair. The stranger kisses Em on the cheek and then gooses him as the lanky southerner saunters my way, eliciting a high pitched giggle from Emmett and causing me to shake my head affectionately.

"Hey, Baby! Lead me to my next victim," Em says enthusiastically as soon as he glimpses me.

I don't even have to say anything. Right at that moment, Nurse Jason just happens to come around the corner pushing a small wheeled cart full of some medical supplies. I grab Emmett by the shoulder, point him in Jason's direction and give him a little shove. "Mmmmm, goodie!" is all Em says as he heads towards the unsuspecting Brown Eyes. And, from the glint in those brown eyes when Jason gets a peek at the lascivious look on Emmett's face, I don't think I'll have to worry about Jason bothering Brian and me for quite some time.

Then I head back into the room and get my supplies ready: a medium sized plastic tub I'd liberated from the nursing supply area earlier in the day along with a small sponge, a bottle of herbal scented body wash I picked up in the little convenience store on the hospital's ground floor, and a hand towel. I also make sure there are a few condoms and some lube ready, just in case, you know. I get everything set up next to the bed quietly while Brian naps, filling the basin with warm soapy water and then stripping my clothes off - not wanting to get them wet, right?

Next I climb up onto the bed, doing my best, what with my right arm still strapped into this sling, to move carefully so as not to wake Brian. I manage to get into the bed but as I move to straddle him so I can sit comfortably while I work, Brian's eyes flutter open. He looks a little confused at first, but that's easily handled by bending down to kiss his luscious lips, reassuring him and getting to enjoy the taste of those delicious lips at the same time. Brian doesn't say anything when I sit back up and pull around the rolling bed tray table so I can start to work.

"It's time for your sponge bath, Mr. Kinney," I say in my best sexy nurse voice. "You just lie back and relax, and I'll take care of everything."

Wetting the sponge in the basin, I then squeeze out most of the liquid before trailing the sponge down Brian's bare arm. As the warm water drips onto his skin, I see goose bumps rising. I wipe the drips away and move on, attentively cleansing his beautiful golden skin inch by inch. I sponge his arms and hands first, avoiding only the areas covered by the soft cast on his wrist. Then, with his help, I pull the black wife beater tee over his head and move on to his well-toned chest, letting the occasional drop or two of water pearl down his pecs, dripping from his erect nipples down onto the well sculpted abs below.

I watch almost mesmerized as one glistening drop of water beads on his left nipple. I just can't resist. I bend down to lick it off, and then suck on that hard little nub until I hear Brian gasp. Then I carefully sponge away the sensation of my kiss as I move my mouth to the other nipple.

Wetting my sponge again, I gently cleanse his long neck and shoulders before returning to those tempting pecs again. I let my lips trail along behind the sponge as I go. I love the slight herbal scent of the body wash combined with Brian's warm skin - he smells edible, so I let myself nibble as well. Brian's ragged heavy breathing indicates he doesn't object at all to being my midnight snack.

A few minutes later I remember my task, and rewet my sponge to wash down his taut stomach, letting rivulets of liquid stream across his rippled abs and drip into his belly button. I have to be a little careful here, he's still so bruised from Craig's attack that even small amounts of pressure on his injuries hurt him. But I go slow and I'm gentle. And each bruise renews my resolve, my need, to stay with this remarkable man who's given so much for me.

I wash him tenderly and then I use the hand towel to dry his upper body before I move lower. Brian tries to sit up then to hold me and kiss me, but his movements result in a gasp of pain as his bruised ribs protest the motion. I quickly lean forward so he doesn't have to strain towards me, offering my lips to him so he can do what he wants. He pulls me down as he relaxes back into his pillows, his lips claiming mine as his own personal property.

Soon, I break off the kiss in order to return to my nursing duties. I carefully scoot downwards and pull the thin hospital blanket with me. Brian has to help again, since I can't get his sweat pants down with only one hand free, although I feel guilty about this since the movement causes him more pain - fucking Craig, I'll never forgive him for hurting Brian.

Once I have my patient completely bare, I dampen my sponge once more, and move to wipe down his hips and tighs and his long, supple, shapely legs. I wash his ticklish feet carefully so as not to cause him any discomfort. Then, I eagerly work my way back up his inner thighs, moving to kneel between his legs, bending his knees slightly and spreading them wider as I go.

Wringing out my sponge again, I let a few drops drip onto his sloping inner thighs so that they roll down towards his groin. I can tell they're tickling him as he strains not to move. I let the water drops bead into his curly dark pubes but I use the sponge to swipe the ticklish sensation away from his skin in their wake. Then I carefully let a drop  
or two fall onto the beautiful thick cock below, watching amusedly as it jumps from the cool sensation.

And I just have to touch him then. I teasingly run the corner of my sponge up from the base of his cock along the large pulsing vein, tickling him and letting little beads of moisture dribble down the sides of his dick, my warm finger following along behind the cool wet sponge, countering the sensation. He's so long and thick when he's full like this and I love the soft-as-silk texture of his skin.

I adore Brian's cock. It's by far my favorite toy and I would love to play with it all day long if I could. So now I indulge myself a little, knowing we have plenty of time, for once. I let myself touch and stroke and explore that wondrous toy, taking my time. He's getting harder as I play and I'm enjoying the little mewling noises he's making as I flick my thumb across the tip of his dick, smearing a little precum around in the process.

"Justin, do you plan to just keep torturing me like this?" Brian gasps out. "You're a cruel, cruel man, Sunshine. Enough with the tender little touches. Grab hold and pull, damn it."

His protests make me laugh but I take his words to heart as well and I drop my sponge so I can wrap my fingers around him more firmly. I hear Brian sigh contentedly as I begin stroking him harder. He starts to arch his groin upwards in pleasure but then winces at the pain and falls back.

"Relax," I whisper into his ear. "You don't have to do anything. Let me do it all, Brian. I want to please you like you've never been before. But you have to let me take care of you for once, Mr. Kinney. You're in no shape to do anything other than lie there and let me make love to you. So, no arguments, okay? I'm in charge this once."

Brian chuckles but doesn't protest so I smile down at him as I sit up and keep stroking him at an agonizingly slow pace. I can tell he's fighting not to move, not to somehow force me to go faster and harder. But he's trying to restrain himself, so I relent and speed up, just a bit. Brian lets out a tiny 'Ahh' of pleasure.

But I want more. I'm not going to stop at a mere hand job this time. I reach towards the rolling tray table and pull it towards me for more supplies. First I grab the lube and manage awkwardly with my single free arm to get a handful, which I use on myself, preparing my hole as Brian watches, licking his lips occasionally in anticipation. When I know I'm ready, and so needy too, I deftly get the condom unrolled on his dick and use a little more lube on him. Brian's being a good patient little patient all this while, apparently content to watch while I do my best with my one hand.

Then, I scoot forward and grab hold of Brian's sheathed cock, lining myself up. I love the gleam of lust I see in Brian's excited eyes while he watches my slow movements. When I finally let myself slide down onto that steel hard rod, he's groaning right along with me. I have to wait a minute or two then, and let my ass adjust, because he's so fucking huge. But the painful burn fades quickly to desire as I look down on the gorgeous countenance of this man that I love so much. And, almost before I realize I'm doing it, I start to raise myself up and then slide back down, over and over again.

"Justin. Fuck, you look so beautiful like this," Brian moans. "Ride me, Sunshine. Ride me."

It's a bit hard to balance correctly with this sling/strap contraption on me, and a couple of times I find myself almost falling over, catching myself at the last moment by adjusting the tension in my thighs. But, my rhythm is off because of it too, damn it. I'm getting pissed off and frustrated. But then Brian reaches his good right hand up and laces his fingers with mine so that I'm braced more fully. Hand in hand, just like that, I keep on, now able to Increase my rhythm with his support.

After that it doesn't take much time at all before we both near a climax. Inching my knees forward a bit, I get the angle just perfect so that each time I drop down onto his thick throbbing shaft, he brushes across my sweet spot, causing me to wriggle and writhe on every upstroke. I'm pretty much a moaning mess by this point, my head thrown back, my eyes closed, only holding on because of Brian's continued grip on my fingers. The only thing I can still clearly think of is my need to take him into me more, deeper, harder, until there's nothing separating us at all.

That's when I feel the tiny electric spark ignite somewhere near the base of my balls. It catches fire easily, inflaming all my nerves and spreading quickly from my balls up my spine till it explodes, setting my body on fire through every nerve and pore and cascading back down till my dick and my ass convulse in fiery pleasure. Through my slitted eyelids I can see thick ropes of cum landing across Brian's chest and splattering onto his face and arms. His face shows almost pure ecstasy as well at that moment, and a second later I can feel his dick twitching and jumping inside me as he shoots his load, moaning out my name as he cums inside me.

My thigh muscles are burning from the strain of holding myself still until Brian finishes and I eventually can't hold myself in that position any longer, collapsing down onto his chest. I hold him as tightly as I can with my one free arm, burying my heated face into his neck and breathing in the smell of sex that now coats us both. The pungent scent makes me laugh - he's messier now than he was when I started his sponge bath. But neither of us cares.

I snuggle down into him, disregarding the pools of cum now gluing us together, replete and happy, with his softening dick still inside me making me feel whole at last.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

My naughty little nurse boy is sound asleep on my chest. He's already snoring slightly and his body feels heavy and limp as it drapes over mine. Fuck, I love the feeling of him when he's like this - sprawled across me, totally without pretense, abandoning himself to sleep and my care. The peaceful, contented look on his face is almost overwhelming, especially after everything we've been through in the past two days. He looks so fucking sweet, I'm not sure if I want to roll him over and fuck the living daylights out of him or just curl up and cuddle him while he sleeps.

And yes, I just thought the word 'cuddle' and I'm not taking it back because I actually do want to cuddle him to me right at this instant - I'll worry about how ridiculous and lesbionic it seems later. For now, I gingerly pull out of him and toss the condom at the trash can by the doorway. Then I gently shift Justin's sleepy form over so he's lying on his left side to avoid pressure on his injured shoulder. I manage to find the hand towel he left on the table and wipe both of us off a bit. Then I curl around his compact body, pulling him as close as our two separate bodies can get, and I let myself soak in the happy contentment he radiates. I feel a silly happy grin on my lips as I finally let myself drift off to sleep with my precious treasure nestled safely in my arms.

The bright sunlight streaming through the window blinds me as I try to discover the source of the clattering noise that wakes me the next morning. After blinking several times and extricating my arm from under Justin's torso so I can shade my eyes, I finally locate the cause of the commotion on the floor by the now gaping door. Apparently, the very young looking nutrition staff worker who was supposed to deliver my breakfast wasn't prepared for the sight of two naked men lying entwined together in one bed. She must have dropped my tray as soon as she opened the door. Unfortunately for her, when she jumped backwards to avoid being splashed, she knocked into the cart with all the other trays, too. The poor girl now has quite a mess to clean up.

Justin's awake too, trying to suppress a giggle at the sight of the girl struggling to clean up the spilled trays while studiously avoiding looking at us. I decide to help her out by pulling the rumpled sheet up to cover our seemingly offensive nakedness. However, I can't help the impish impulse that impels me to lean in and kiss away Justin's laughter, chuckling myself at the gasp of surprise that arises from the direction of the doorway. I've always prided myself in helping to educate young people, and this girl is really getting quite the education this morning.

A minute or two later, someone else comes over to help little Miss Butterfingers. This one's older and she doesn't blink an eye at the little spectacle we're providing. She just lays into little Butterfingers, berating her for her clumsiness. It kind of takes all the fun out of it for me, so Justin and I stop kissing and just watch in sympathy as the girl stammers out an excuse to the pushy older woman.

When the old battle axe finally leaves, pulling the door to the room closed, I sit up and extricate myself from Justin enough to reach the foot of the bed, where my clothing landed last night. I figure we both better get dressed, before we cause any more havoc. But Justin has other plans - damn the havoc quotient. He hops out of bed and grabs the clothes out of my hand, tossing them back onto the bed. Then he pulls me towards the bathroom, and promptly locks the door behind us.

Justin carefully unlaces and removes the soft cast on my wrist. Then I help him out of the sling keeping his shoulder immobilized. He winces slightly as I remove the final straps, clearly the mere weight of his unsupported arm causing him pain. It's the first time I've seen him without the sling and I'm appalled at the horrible bruising painting his skin grotesques shades of purple, green and black. Fuck Craig Taylor. I almost wish he wasn't in jail right now so I could track him down and beat the shit out of him for doing this to Justin. Then I feel a twinge myself as I move in a way that aggravates my sore ribs and I realize that I'm not in any shape to take my revenge on Craig so he might as well be in jail.

Justin turns on the water in the shower and waits till its the right temp. Then he steps into the cramped little shower stall, beckoning me to follow. This shower's not really designed for two, but that just means we have to stand closer together, which isn't exactly a problem. I take a handful of the liquid soap from the wall dispenser and gently wash Justin's back and chest, trying futilely to wash away the ugly bruises in the process. I can tell him shoulder hurts him awfully, ever time I touch that side of his body he flinches. But, at the same time I can feel that he's hard as a rock and he's grinding his ass back into my crotch.

"Justin, you can't be serious," I tell him. "I don't want to hurt you. Your shoulder. . . "

"My shoulder will be fine. I need you, Brian. I want you inside me, now," he's moaning, braced with his good hand against the shower wall and grinding his ass against my dick over and over.

Shit, I'm not made out of steel. If my boy wants me to fuck him, I can't really see a good reason to say no, even with his shoulder and my wrist and ribs slowing us down. So, when Justin thrusts a convenient condom into my hand - the wily little fucker - I tear it open and put it on without thinking twice. But, that's when the real challenge starts.

My left wrist is pretty much useless, but I can still use that arm to wrap around Justin and hold him steady while I quickly find his needy little hole and stretch him with my other hand. He's leaning back into my shoulder and groaning - I'm not sure if it's from pleasure at my thrusting fingers or from pain because of his shoulder. Im hoping it's pleasure, because I don't want to stop now.

Using the liquid soap instead of lube, I lather us both and then carefully and slowly guide myself till I'm balls deep inside him. He always feels so incredibly tight and hot, I can't get over it. He's perfect, always. How is it we seem to fit together just right?

I have to go slowly. Justin is using his good hand to brace us up against the wall and I'm using my good hand to hold his hips. But even so, I'm so afraid of hurting him that I'm moving excruciatingly slowly. It's tormenting and erotic at the same time. And it feels like we're there for hours, moving together, threading our way between the pleasure and the pain with tiny, intimate movements, guided by equal portions of fear and anticipation. The slowly building potential filling my gut until I know I'm almost there.

I reach around, then, to Justin's jutting cock, and start to stroke him in slow motions matching our careful rhythm. He turns his head to the side so that our lips meet in a tender, lingering kiss as I work at him. Then, as I swirl the pad of my thumb across the tip of his head, he starts to cum for me, harder than I'd expect considering our slow pace. He's painting the shower walls with his cum and his ass is clenching at my dick and then I'm cuming too, holding on to his slim frame for dear life. I bite into the soft flesh of his shoulder for additional support as my body is wracked again and again against his until every drop of my essence feels drained. And the water from the shower pelts down on us, as if trying to wash away the fear and pain that finally seems to dissipate as we slowly recover our senses.

We stand there, it seems like forever, neither willing to move. When I finally pull out of him, he cries out and I'm afraid that I've hurt him. He just shakes his head with an enigmatic little smile, though, when he sees my concerned look. I turn off the water and pull open the shower curtain then we gingerly help each other out. I carefully towel Justin off and then grab us fresh clothing from the duffle bag lying next to the bathroom door. After helping him get a shirt on - me wincing even more than he does each time I jostle his shoulder in the process - I put the sling restraint thing back on him, feeling him sigh in relief as I tighten the final strap.

Then I dress myself and Justin helps me lace back up the cast onto my wrist. We're both finally dressed and re-outfitted with all requisite medical gear, and seated demurely on the bed, when a very tentative knock at the door interrupts us. I yell out, "come in". The door opens very slightly and our sad little Butterfingers peeks around the jamb hesitatingly to make sure she's not interrupting us again. I really want to laugh at the fearful look on the girl's face but I manage to restrain myself.

"I have your breakfast, Sir?" she says, making it somehow sound like a question. "I'm s-s-sorry about waking y-y-you earlier."

"Thats quite all right, Butterfingers. We're wide awake and freshly showered and ready for some sustenance," I try to cajole her so she'll actually dare to come further into the room. "So, tell me what lovely offerings the hospital has provided for our gustatory pleasure this morning?"

"I-I-I didn't know that . . . I only brought the one tray. . . I can go back and ask . . ." Butterfingers says, her hands now shaking so much I'm afraid she'll drop this tray too, so I quickly jump up and grab it away from her.

"Don't bother," I try to reassure the trembling waif. "Justin here is no longer officially a patient. He's actually more of an 'impatient' - he's just waiting around, keeping me company until I get my own walking orders. So, you don't need to worry about any more trays, Butterfingers. This one will be sufficient. Justin can forage for his own meal, can't you, Sunshine?"

"Yep. In fact, I think the Starbucks own the block will suffice - their coffee is better and they have chocolate chip muffins," Justin confirms, winking at Butterfingers as he hops off the bed and takes his jacket down from the hook behind the door. "I'll happily leave you to your dry, whole wheat toast, limp turkey bacon and lumpy, cold oatmeal, Brian."

"Twat! Just be sure and bring me back some coffee, you hear," I tease as he sashays out of the room.

"Now, Miss Butterfingers," I tell the girl who's trying to back away from me as if I'm likely to eat her as soon as I finish my breakfast tray. "On your way out, would you mind asking the duty nurse to step in. I think I need to light a fire under the doctor if I'm ever getting out of here today."

Butterfingers stammers her acknowledgment and flees. That's why Debbie finds me chuckling over my breakfast when she barges in about thirty seconds later. She doesn't even say anything, just takes one look at my sorry excuse for a breakfast, picks the tray up and deposits it on a counter across the room and then opens her bag and pulls out two take out boxes from the Diner and her trusty thermos. The coffee smells divine and one of the two boxes has an egg white omelet and a side of fresh fruit in it.

"Thank you, Deb," I say after the first mouthful of omelet. "You are a true angel of mercy. I'm not sure how I was going to manage that glop the hospital was trying to pass off as food."

"I've always said," Deb replies, "that the reason so many people die in hospitals is because of the crap they try to feed you. Now, where's Sunshine, I brought him breakfast too. I figured he'd be here?"

"He'll be right back. I sent him out foraging for edibles before you arrived," I inform her. "But, what brings you here so early? I thought you were covering Brian and Justin loft duty later, after I got discharged and Ted got me home. Nobody was supposed to be on hospital visit duty. I'm pretty sure I had you all shooed away yesterday."

"Yeah. But that's before I found out from Ted this morning at breakfast about your visitor yesterday afternoon and why your discharge got delayed a day. Damn it Brian, why didn't you tell me? Don't you ever think to call and let me know about shit like that? All I heard was you were going to stay another night for 'observation'. I can't believe you're so fucking blasé about Justin's father coming here and beating the shit out of you that it just slipped your mind? Fuck that."

"I didn't want you to worry, Deb. It's no big deal. I'm fine - just a few more stitches and some bruised ribs. And that bastard, Craig, is safely where he belongs behind bars now so there's nothing more to worry about."

"What about Sunshine?" Deb is concerned. "He's got to fucking be reeling after having to confront that fucking monster. Is he okay?"

"I'm great, Deb," Justin says, taking that opportunity to burst through the door with a cardboard drink caddy and a bag full of pastries.

"Oh, Justin, Sunshine, come here and give me a hug," Debbie demands as soon as he sets down all the food. "God, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that on top of everything else, Sweetie. Here, put those other things down and come eat some real breakfast first."

Justin, wisely, complies and Debbie immediately arranges him on the bed next to me with his take out breakfast in front of him. Then, once we're both situated to her liking, and eating as she forests, Deb proceeds to lecture us for the duration of our meal about not trying to handle everything on our own with out help from the family, etc., etc.

Justin and I simply eat and occasionally grin sideways at each other, not bothering to listen or correct her gross attempts at mothering us. It's good to be mothered a little every so often, and fuck knows Debbie needs to get her fix somehow, so I'm not gonna stop her. It's only when something she says finally seeps into my consciousness that I interrupt.

"Whoa! Back up, Deb. You told Jennifer?" I demand of her, turning at once to make sure the boy sitting next to me isnt freaking at the news. "Fuck. Justin, are you okay with this?"

"I guess," he says with his signature shrug.

"What the fuck was I supposed to say, Brian?" Deb complains. "She walked into the Diner right after Ted told me what happened and asked if I'd heard anything from you or Justin lately. I'm not going to fucking lie to a mother when her kid's in the hospital after getting run off the road and then beat up by her Ex. She deserves to know. So, just be ready. I told her I was heading over here to see you but that she could come visit in an hour. Which is right about now. So . . ."

"Fuck, Debbie. You should have called and told us first, or something . . ." I start to argue with the meddlesome beldame but I'm interrupted by the loud knock at the door.

"Justin?" Jennifer's voice precedes her as she enters the hospital room.

Justin is sitting close beside me and I can feel the muscles in his thigh tense at the sound as if he's going to bolt. But he doesn't. He just reaches over and grasps my hand, linking our fingers together to get the physical contact he needs to confront this new challenge. Then he lifts his chin up slightly and waits for what's coming next.

"Justin, sweetheart, my god. Are you okay? Your arm? Oh, my!" Jennifer gushes as she comes into the room and hurries over to Justin, only stopped from taking him into a big hug by my presence so close.

"I've been so worried about you, dear," Jennifer goes on. "Ever since I got off the phone with Brian the other day, and realized that your father had your phone number now, I've been frantic. I tried calling both of you several times but you never called me back. That in itself made me even more worried. So I went to see Debbie this morning to see if she would tell me any news."

"Justin, I know that I promised not to push - that I'd leave it at phone calls for the time being - but I just had to see you and make sure you were alright. Please don't get upset or angry that I came here today."

"I'm not angry, mother. I understand your concern. But . . . " Justin hesitates over whatever he's going to say and looks over at me briefly before continuing. "We've been talking on the phone lately and sort of getting to know each other again, right? I was even starting to get more comfortable with the idea of having you back in my life. I know you're frustrated by how slow you feel everything is going, but I just have a hard time trusting people. You and Craig made me this way, I figure, so you really have no reason to complain."

"I'm so sorry about all that, Justin. I've already apologized a hundred times. Can't you move beyond all that?" Jennifer remarks, her frustration evident from her tone.

"Actually, no. I can't get beyond 'all that'," Justin responds, the edge of anger in his voice surprising me since he's usually so placid when he talks to his mother. "You say 'all that' like its some small thing - a tiny blip in an otherwise normal life. But it's so fucking much more. It's everything that I am. Everything that made me who I am today. There's so much shit in my past that I'm not sure I'll ever even remember it all let alone ever be able to deal with it. And the single biggest thing that I can't seem to wrap my head around no matter how hard I try is that you were there all that time and didn't do anything to stop it."

"Justin, I . . . "

"Let me finish," Justin stops her excuses before she can start. "I realize that Craig is a royal fucked up bastard and he did a number on you as well as on me. I get that. But knowing that doesn't really change the fact that you're my mother and I trusted you to take care of me and you didn't. How the fuck do I ever get beyond that? Huh?"

"And then, when I start to let you back into my life, you betray my trust again by letting that monster know about me and about how to find me?" Justin is almost yelling now in his anger. "Yes, I know it was an accident and, from what Brian told me yesterday, I get that he didn't help matters much by making Craig angry in the first place. But that doesn't change the fact that it was you who let him find out about me again. How can I keep doing this? How can I trust you ever again?"

Jennifer is sobbing. Debbie is standing behind her, appearing torn between comforting Jennifer and supporting Justin. I'm sitting here next to a seething, furious blond unable to do more than rub his back to comfort him. And I don't see any good way to resolve this mess.

I'm as unbelieving as Justin when it comes to promises made by parents. However, I feel more than a little guilty about all this. If it weren't for my deal with Craig, he never would have had to go to Jennifer to explain why he couldn't pay her alimony. And, if he hadn't been in her house when I called - using Justin's phone, by the way - he'd still be in the dark about his son's whereabouts. I always expected that eventually Craig would come after me when the shit all came down on his after our deal, but I'd never once thought it would rebound onto Justin.

Now, not only are Justin and I recovering from the results of my machinations against Craig, but Jennifer is going to be permanently hurt financially because of what I've done, and it looks like I've destroyed any chance their relationship might have had. Way to go, Kinney. All I need now is a blind person to trip and a baby to steal candy from and my job here will be complete.

"I don't know how, Justin, but I still want to try to earn back your trust. Please? Isn't there some way?" Jennifer begs.

"I don't see how," Justin says adamantly. "There's no way I'm going to trust you with my new phone number now, let alone my address. So how do you propose we work this? I can't even trust you with my contact info."

Debbie, my very own version of a mother, is looking at me and not at the mother and son arguing in front of us. I sense she's looking to me to solve this. I can see the empathy she's feeling for Jennifer, but in spite of that Debbie is loyal to a fault and would never let anything hurt me, or by extension, Justin. She understands trust better than anyone I know. As crass and loud and sometimes overbearing as she is, I still trust her with everything. Maybe . . . maybe she can teach these two how to trust, too?

"Justin. Jennifer. I have a suggestion," I say, interrupting their sad staring contest. "What about a neutral third party acting as an intermediate? Someone who could keep both parties' trust? You could contact each other through that third party and even maybe meet there occasionally on neutral ground, so to speak. It would take all the trust issues out of the equation and then maybe you could just work on the other stuff?"

"I could live with that," Jennifer jumps at the offered solution eagerly.

Justin is a lot more cautious. "Who? It can't be you, Brian. Not if we're together. So who else is there that we can all trust?"

"Deb?" I suggest. "Jennifer already seems comfortable coming to her for info about you. And I trust Deb implicitly - she's been there for me whenever I needed her since I was fourteen. What do you think, Sunshine? Could you trust Debbie?"

Debbie's already beaming at me like I was some fucking genius. She's confident that it's the perfect solution. Justin, on the other hand, is still undecided. He's scrutinizing Debbie as if he plans to dissect her later for a science experiment. Fuck, Justin - you have to trust someone, sometime.

I'm almost ready to give up and head back to the drawing board, when I hear Justin sigh and I feel him relax back against my side. He's going to try it. He nods at Deb and his mother and then reaches up to turn my face to his. And, with all the trust in the world, he pulls me in for a kiss. Maybe I can fix this, too?

Debbie and Jennifer immediately start making plans. It sounds like Jennifer is going to start joining the group for family dinner on Sundays. That way Justin and his mom can start to reconnect but in a non-threatening way. Plus, Jennifer will get to see more of what Justin's new life is like. And, Debbie gets another person to stuff full of her pasta every week. It's a rather elegant solution, if I do say so myself.

So, why do I suddenly feel so weird?

Fuck! Did I just set up the in-laws to get together for dinner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya, just lots and lots of smut. Almost 7,000 words of mostly smut. Okay, I threw in a little Jennifer resolution too so it wasn't completely PWP. But still, that makes up a little for those last few action packed chapters where there wasn't room for smut, right? It looks like I'm going to have to end the story now, though, since I've run out of non-smut plot. Off, to write my conclusion and then. . . . Thank you to all my great readers who've helped me write this story by giving me so much encouragement and your very helpful, insightful comments. TAG


	41. Compensation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little follow up chapter. I hope you enjoy the little nuggets of humor I tucked into this wrap up chapter. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 41 - Compensation.

Compensation: Something given or received as an equivalent for loss, injury or suffering.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"Brian, stop. Ow, ow, ow. Stooooooppppppp."

"Quit complaining, Sunshine. You know the physical therapist said you need to stretch the shoulder joint so it doesn't get stiff or else you'll lose some of your range of motion," Brian insists as he again pulls my right arm upwards and back causing jolts of pain to radiate down my arm.

"He didn’t mean you were supposed to pull it back out of the socket again, though," I protest again. "Ow! Fuck, that hurts."

"Justin, it will hurt a lot less if you relax and stop fighting me," Brian reasons, rubbing the sore lats as he again pulls my arm the wrong fucking direction. "Stop complaining, relax and if you're good, I'll give you a full body massage afterwards to make up for it."

"I'm not falling for that again," I tell him with a smile. "That's what you said the other day, but the only thing that got massaged was my ass - from the inside. I want a real massage this time, Brian. Otherwise, no deal."

"Okay, okay. I promise I'll give you a full massage. Scout's Honor," he says, holding up his middle three fingers in the traditional boy scout salute.

"You weren't ever a boy scout, Brian!"

"True, but I've fucked several eagle scouts, does that count?"

We're both laughing by this point and I've almost forgotten the excruciating pain he's causing to my shoulder. When he feels he's stretched it sufficiently to cause me enough pain for the night, he actually does start to massage the soreness away, his long, strong but sensative fingers always applying the perfect amount of pressure and finding all the right spots. Before he's even finished with my shoulders, I feel like limp spaghetti in his hands.

"Mmmmmm. Oh, Brian. Ohhhhh. That feels so good," I'm moaning in ecstasy as he kneads at the stiff muscles in my lower back that I've been overcompensating with to take pressure off my shoulder. "Ahhh. Oh, yes. Right there. Oh, fuck yes. Ohhhhhhh!"

"Shit! You two should lock the door or something if you're gonna be fucking in the middle of the day when you know company's coming!" Debbie's dulcet tones interrupt my last big 'Ohhhh' as she walks into the living room area carrying two bags full of groceries.

When she sees that we're both fully clothed and seated on the couch with Brian merely rubbing my back, I think she's actually a little disappointed. She covers well though. She leans in to give Brian a little peck on the cheek and then shifts her groceries to pat me on the head.

"Afternoon, Deb," Brian intones. "So, if you thought we were fucking, why didn't you just turn around and leave instead of coming over here to investigate further, hm?"

"Shut it, asshole," Deb says affectionately, bustling back towards the kitchen and yelling the rest of her comments over her shoulder. "I just brought you by a casserole and some of Justin's favorite, Chicken Parmigiana. If I know you, Brian, there's nothing in that fridge besides beer and poppers. How's that shoulder feeling, Sunshine?"

"Well, it was feeling better until Brian decided to practice KGB approved torture techniques on me," I say, following her into the kitchen to help unpack the groceries. "All I can say is that he's a much better AdMan than he is a physical therapist."

"Hey. You weren't complaining about thirty seconds ago," Brian smirks as he follows me and Deb and pulls a beer out of the fridge at the same time I'm putting the casserole dish inside.

By the time I've helped Deb unload all the food she brought us - which I mostly add to the other food she brought earlier in the week which has all been relegated to the freezer since there's no way we could eat that much food in a month - and listened to the instructions on how to reheat the casserole for the third time, we have another visitor, who knocks at the door frame next to the door that Deb left ajar when she came in.

"Hey, Teddy! Come on in, honey," Deb invites the quiet brunet into the loft with her usual proprietorial air, regardless of the fact that she doesn't live there. "Isn't Brian supposed to be taking the week off? How's that work if you keep bringing him piles of paperwork from the office? You need to let him get some rest! He and Sunshine are still healing, you know."

"Tell him that, Debbie. I'm just following my Boss' orders," Ted replies, sidestepping Deb's proffered bear hug and heading straight to Brian's desk where his Boss is waiting for him.

"You better keep an eye on that man, Sunshine," Deb warns me as she starts to gather her things together. "He's going to work himself into an early grave at this pace. You need to get him to relax a bit, you know? Well, anyways, I'm off. I promised to cover the dinner shift for Kiki tonight. Now, don't forget - your mother's coming to her first Family Dinner on Sunday so you and Brian better be there on time. You hear me?"

"Yes, Deb. We'll be there," I confirm as the whirlwind finally blusters out the door, still yelling advice at me even as the elevator begins to descend. Then I add, in a quieter tone, "we wouldn't dare not be there."

I head back into the loft, pulling the heavy door closed with my right hand, glad for the millionth time today that I no longer have to wear the sling. It's still very stiff but at least my arm works again. And closing doors wasn't the only thing I looked forward to doing with my newly freed appendage, thinking forward to what I could do to Brian tonight in bed.

"Fine. But, you've got to make a decision soon, Brian. The receiver wants to start liquidating the assets next week. He needs an answer by Monday," Ted is saying to Brian as I re-enter the room.

"Have Cynthia go ahead and set up a conference call for Monday morning, Theodore. I'll have a decision for him by then," Brian directs. "All the rest of this can wait. I'll look it over tonight. Thanks, Theodore."

"Anytime, Bri. See you on Sunday, Justin."

"Bye, Ted," I say as the older man lets himself out.

"Sunshine," Brian calls to me. "We're going on a field trip."

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I really dislike surprises. But Brian refuses to tell me where we're going or why. No matter how much I beg. Shit. I don't like this.

I still have no idea what it's about when he pulls off the highway and then into a strip mall way the fuck out in the suburbs. Brian hates the burbs. Why the hell would he bring me way out here? There aren't any shops here that I can see Brian shopping in either. Brian isn't the Ikea/GAP type. I'm perplexed.

Then I see it - Big Boyz Electronics. My father's store. This is a new one - I've never been to this location before, but all the stores are basically the same so it's not hard to recognize. Oh, and the twenty foot high neon sign is a dead give away, too.

"Brian? What the fuck are we doing here?" I ask with trepidation.

"Well. I need your input on something, Sunshine," Brian says as he parks the Vette in a distant parking spot and then turns towards me. "I have a confession to make first, though."

"I don't like confessions, Brian."

"Yeah, well, I don't like having to make them," Brian explains. "But I owe you an explanation and an apology. I also owe it to you to let you make your own decisions about what happens next."

That's when Brian starts to explain exactly what it was he did to 'ruin' my father. We get out of the car and start to walk towards the store as he talks. I'd already figured out some of what he was telling me just from overhearing what he and Craig had said to each other in the hospital the other day. But now that I'm hearing the whole story, I'm fucking amazed at the brilliance of the plan Brian came up with - embroiling Craig in a patent infringement lawsuit that Brian already knew was on the horizon. And my father was so fucking greedy that he fell for it without even a tiny struggle.

"So, basically, at this point we own the company in all but name, Sunshine," Brian says as he leads me to a doorway near the back of the store. "Craig put up all the stores and all the stock as collateral for the financing I provided him. When he couldn't pay, the contract terms allowed me to put my own person, a Receiver, in to run the company. The Receiver now needs to know what we want to do with the company, which is why I need your input."

By this point we're through the doorway and I can see the area behind the door is the offices. These offices are a bit fancier than what I remembered from Craig's older stores, but it looks hauntingly similar. Brian waves at a busty, not-so-young anymore receptionist who titters at him, and then leads me to what must be the manager's office. To my surprise, Brian seats me behind the desk in the big swiveling leather office chair and then types a password into the computer in front of me. After a few more clicks, he brings up a series of spreadsheets, which he leaves on the screen as he returns to one of the guest chairs on the other side of the desk.

"Brian, I don't know what I'm looking at here," I start to protest.

"Those are the company financials. As you can see from all the red, Taylor Electronics hasn't been doing very well lately. Craig wasn't exactly a great businessman. He'd overextended the company long before I came along - he expanded to too many stores too fast, in my opinion. The company was already in a shitload of debt before I came along. But, Craig probably could have saved it all, if he hadn't gotten so greedy."

At this point Brian starts to look almost embarrassed. It's very un-Brian-like. Brian doesn't do regrets. So, why does he keep looking at me like that?

"Now comes the apology part, Justin," Brian says but then hesitates. "I don't usually do the 'I'm sorry' thing because sorry doesn't fix things. But, this time I'm going to. I feel like shit about how I handled things and I just need to tell you that first before I can fix things."

" So, Justin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all this from the start and I'm sorry that you got hurt because of it. If I hadn't pissed Craig off in the first place he probably wouldn't have come after you. And, your mother would still be getting her alimony. And you wouldn't have had to be in the hospital . . . "

"Stop, Brian," I cut him off. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault Craig is a maniac."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't have known where to find you if it hadn't been for my grand schemes."

"Maybe not, but what good does it do to worry about that now. It's done. It's over. What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I ask.

Well, I want to fix things for you, now. That's the reason why I did all this in the first place - to help you get a little bit back from the man who hurt you so badly," Brian explains further. "The last thing I wanted was to hurt you any more than you'd already been hurt. But all my fucking plans . . . well, they worked, but I'm not sure anymore if it was worth it."

"Craig's in jail," I say, with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. "It's where he belongs, and he's likely to be there for a very long time. So, at least to that extent, I certainly think it was worth it. He won't be able to bother me, or you for that matter, for years and years."

"I still feel horrible about how it all came about, Sunshine. And I wish I'd told you what I had planned before I did it all, so you could have talked me out of it. But, you're right that that doesn't do us any good now. What we need to do right now is decide what to do with Taylor Electronics. The Receiver has done his job. The company is stable, but not for long unless we do something. So, you tell me - what should we do with your company?"

"MY company? Don't you mean your company, Brian?" I question him, worried by the odd look on his face - he still seems a bit embarrassed but he's also seemingly full of tense expectation.

"Nope. I mean, YOUR company, Justin. See, when I was arranging all this, the plan was not just to ruin Craig, but also to get something back for you. I didn't do this shit for me - what the fuck do I want with a chain of electronics stores? I did it for you, Justin."

"Your father owes you for all those years you spent living in poverty on the streets. Just beating Craig up or even ruining him wouldn't have been enough to compensate you for all that misery. And, I always say, the best revenge is to become the biggest fucking success you can be - and then you'll be able rub your detractors' noses in it. So, once I was sure that nobody was going to drag TelePhonix into the litigation, I deeded 51% of the shares to you. You are the majority shareholder now. You own TelePhonix. Which means you also, basically, own Taylor Electronics."

"Which is why I need you to tell me what you want done with it now," Brian states with a sexy smirk. "If you want, we can keep the company. We'd need to restructure it and hire a good business manager - I don't know shit about retail - but it could probably become profitable in the long run. At least that's what Ted tells me. Or, we could liquidate the company and all it's assets and just take the money."

"It's up to you, Sunshine," Brian grins at me, his tongue visible sticking into his cheek. "It's your company now. Its your money. You've got the success. So how do you want to go about sticking it to that homophobic religious freak who calls himself your father?"

What part of 'I don't like surprises' does Brian not understand? This is the biggest fucking surprise ever in the history of surprises. You don't just go around giving away companies to people. What the fuck is Brian thinking? Is he trying to kill me or something? How the fuck is this even possible?

While I'm trying to remember how to breathe, I happen to glance at the computer screen in front of me. Yeah, there is a LOT of red, but on the pages where it lists the corporation's assets, there are also a shitload of dark black zeros. Lots and lots of zeros. Not too long ago I was freaking out over the idea of having a thousand dollars in my possession. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with thousands of thousand dollars to worry about. I still don't even have a fucking state ID, but according to this, I'm a fucking millionaire? Needless to say, the breathing thing isn't going well.

"Justin?" Brian sounds a bit worried now, since I still haven't said anything. "I know it seems like a big headache, but really it won't be that bad. We'll hire people to do all the work - no matter which direction you decide to go. You won't have to even come here if you don't want. I promise."

Yeah, like that's the only problem. Brian just doesn't get how fuckng badly this freaks me out. I suddenly think of this ridiculous image of myself, wearing my old street boy attire, my clothing stuffed with money just like a scarecrow is stuffed with straw. There are pieces of money poking out from my collar and the cuffs of my sleeves and even a few dollars dripping down from underneath the crown of some big floppy hat that I'm wearing. And I'm trying to stand on a street corner and look normal while I fish for Johns, only, every time I move a few bills leak out from my overstuffed clothing and dribble down to the ground around me.

The silliness of that image finally snaps me out of my mini-panic. I've already decided I'm not ever going back to that life - I'm not leaving Brian. And, even if I did leave Brian, at this point I wouldn't need to troll for Johns to stay alive with all the money I've saved up. Not to mention all this new money.

"Justin? Are you okay?" Brian asks, taken aback by the crazed giggle I can't seem to hold back at this point.

Brian gets up and comes around the desk to me. He pulls me out of the big chair, seats himself in it and then pulls me back down to his lap. Finally, with his strong arms around me, I start the relax again. Brian's touch always has that instant calming effect. Now I can at least try to think through what to do.

"What should I do, Brian?"

"Well, if you choose to keep the company, there won't be any money from it for a while. It'll take a year or two, at least, to turn it around before you start to see a profit. Plus, I don't really see you as a businessman, Sunshine. Do you have any desire to keep the company and run it?" Brian says, speaking into the hair at the nape of my neck.

"None. I don't want anything to do with anything Craig ever touched."

"Then, your best option is to sell the company, pay off the remaining creditors and walk away with whatever cash is left over afterwards. According to what Ted's been telling me, there are two possible buyers already interested. Of course, by the time you liquidate all the debts, there will only be a couple hundred thousand left. You'd make more in the long run if you kept the company, of course. But, the upside is you'd have cash in hand and wouldn't have to bother with the business at all."

"A COUPLE hundred thousand?" is all I can choke out.

"Yeah. I know it's not that much, but . . ."

"Fuck, Brian! It's not that much? A couple hundred thousand dollars? Are you fucking insane? That's a fucking lot of money for a street hustler. For anyone normal. What the fuck would I do with that much money? You hardly even let me spend any of the money you pay me for working at Kinnetik. What the fuck do I do with all this?"

"Well, I had one idea, Sunshine," Brian begins, but then he halts as if unsure how to say what he's thinking.

I just sit there and look at him, waiting. Eventually he'll have to speak again. I can wait.

"Now, please don't get upset, Justin . . . But, I was thinking that maybe you might like to use some of the money to go back to school," Brian finally finishes.

School? Hmmm? That's actually . . . a fucking wonderful idea. I was listening to Jessica talking just the other day about some of the amazing art and design classes she'd taken back in college and I'd felt just a bit jealous. But, me? I hadn't been in a real school since I was fifteen - back before Craig pulled me out to 'homeschool' me. How would I get into any school? I didn't even have a high school diploma. It would never work.

"Stop thinking so hard, Justin," Brian jokes with me, emphasizing his words with a little squeeze around my middle. "I can see those gears in your head spinning away as we speak. It wouldn't be that hard. First you take the GED test and then you'd have to take the SAT college entrance tests. I'm confident you'll do great on both. There's even prep classes you can take to get ready for them, right?"

"And, once you've got your scores back, we can think about colleges you might be interested in. If you want to go to a local college, you could even keep working part time at Kinnetik so you'll have some income. But, of course, you wouldn't have to, if you didn't want or if you go to an out of state school. . . "

This last part, Brian says while intentionally looking away from me. But his body betrays him even when I can't see his face. His grip on me gets just a little bit tighter when he mentions me going to a school outside of Pittsburgh. He's not fooling me - he couldn't bear me leaving, even just temporarily for school, any more than I could stand to be away from him. I can't help teasing him just a little, though.

"Do you think there'd be enough money to pay for someplace like Harvard or, better yet, Stanford?" I ask innocently, coming up with the farthest away school I can think of on the spot.

"S-S-Stanford? You mean mean, like in California?" Brian stammers, looking devastated for a moment or two until he notices that I'm grinning at him. "You twat! Yes, there'd be plenty of money for that, if you wanted to go to the fucking ends of the earth and study, what, business's at Stanford. But, well, they have great graphic arts programs at Pittsburgh State and Carnegie Mellon, too. And, you could still live at home. With me."

"Oh, Brian," is all I can say at that point because I've already melted into him as soon as he mentioned the happy fact that my home is wherever he is.

"Sunshine," Brian breathes as he finds his way to my lips and kisses me deeply.

Then there's no more talking, and I even forget about the computer screen with all those scary zeros for a long time afterwards. All I'm conscious of is Brian, and Brian's mouth on mine, and Brian's hands sliding down the back of my loose fitting chinos, and Brian's heartbeat thrumming along, lub dub, lub dub, in time with my own.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Justin's getting rather good at handling surprises, I think. This was a big one. But, he only had a little mini freak out and then snapped right back to normal. And he even managed to tease me a bit about going out of state to college. He's definitely better since the hospital. He said that finally letting himself fight back against Craig helped. But, no matter what it was that brought on these changes, all I can say is that I like it alot. And, since he's doing so well with this, I figure I'll push my luck a little and go for another big surprise.

That's when Titts McGee comes nosing her way into the office, gasping at the sight of Justin and I making out (I guess I won't be getting anywhere with her using my standard Kinney charm anymore). I give his luscious coral pink lips just one more little nibble before turning my attention to Titts. She's standing there doing a hooked fish imitation, her mouth gaping open and her hands fluttering helplessly about. Poor Titts. Things are really gonna change around here without Craig. I doubt she's ready for this.

"M-M-Mr. Kinney. I didn't mean to . . . I . . . I was just going to offer to go get you - and your, uh, friend - some coffee. S-S-Sorry to interrupt,” Titts manages to splutter out when I finally do give her my attention, not bothering to get up or to remove Justin from his perch on my lap, though.

“I don’t think we need any coffee, Titts,” I tell her, wondering briefly if I should try to find out her real name, then deciding quickly that I won’t bother. “But, I would like to introduce you to your new boss. This is Justin Taylor. He’s the majority stockholder of the parent company that’s taken over Taylor Electronics. So, I suggest you direct all your future butt kissing towards him instead of me.”

“Oh, my. . . Mr. Taylor. It’s, uh, so nice to meet you,” Titts manages, ignoring as best she can the fact that Justin is still seated on my lap. “Any relation to our prior owner, Craig Taylor?”

“None at all,” I interject before Justin feels he has to explain anything to this peon. “Anyway, that will be all for now, Titts. We won’t be staying much longer today. Oh, and, don’t forget to close the door on your way out. We DON’T want to be disturbed. Again.”

Justin is silently laughing into my chest as soon as Titts retreats. Fuck, he’s cute when he’s all happy and giggly like this - and I’m not even going to worry about how lesbionic that last thought was, I’m just going to enjoy being with my giggling blond. I especially like how wiggly he gets when he’s giggly. But, I decide to table that thought because I don’t think Titts can handle any more gay displays today and if I let myself go there, I won’t be able to stop.

“So, what’s your decision, Sunshine? Keep the company or sell it? I told Ted I’d have an answer for him by Monday.”

“Sell it. I have no desire to run any retail electronics stores or to have anything to do with anything my father touched,” Justin confirms the answer I had expected to hear.

“Sell it is then. Poor Titts - she’s soon to be unemployed. Oh well, at least she has her boob job to keep her company at night,” I joke, finally moving to rise and deposit Justin back on his own feet. 

“Now, Sunshine. Let’s move on to some more enjoyable errands,” I suggest as I lead Justin towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big humor but not much smut - I know. I'll work on that. The story is definitely winding down now, though - I see only a couple more wrap up chapters and then maybe an epilogue. TAG


	42. Identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so hard to write this final chapter. I didn't want to see the story end. It turned out really, really great though, so even though it's almost midnight here, I just had to post it right away.
> 
> ***Warning: Lots of Sentimental drivel ahead. Plus a little bit of smut, too!***
> 
> I hope you all like the resolution I've given our boys. Enjoy! TAG

Chapter 42 - Identity.

Identity: The characteristics which make up or determine who or what a person is.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

We're standing together in some interminable line at the DMV. Brian hasn't explained why, yet. He's got this big manilla file in one hand, and he's holding my hand with the other even though we're in breeder land. It's like he's afraid I'll bolt if he lets me go. He just might be right, too.

After at least twenty minutes, we finally reach the front of the line and we're called over to a window in the counter by a middle aged Latina woman whose name plate says 'Consuelo'.

"Good afternoon, Miss Consuelo," Brian greets her dumpy, exhausted grey countenance with mocking enthusiasm. "We need to get this young man here a state ID, please. Here's all the paperwork you should need."

The tired looking woman pulls a small stack of papers out of the file and sorts them. She staples some together in a specific order. She stamps a few with big mechanical contraptions. She shuffles the papers. She pulls another form out of a cubbyhole on her desk and transfers a sticker from the new form to one of the other documents. And for more than five more minutes she keeps up this inexplicable dance of paperwork without saying a word.

I'm not worried about Consuelo though. I'm busy just trying to hold back my own excitement. Brian is smiling down at me, almost as excited as I am, it seems. I had no idea we were coming here today. I had no idea that Ted had managed to put all these documents together. I just chalk it all up to Brian and his love of surprises.

"Sign here," Consuelo finally says, handing me back a form and pointing to a section where I see a signature line. "And here. And, initial here and here."

So I sign and initial. Then Consuelo sends us to stand in another, albeit shorter, line a few feet further down the counter. At the culmination of this line, a very tiny man with dark oily hair takes my finger prints. I wonder if he uses the fingerprinting ink in his hair to get it just the right amount of oily and black. He then sends us to a third line where I eventually end up sitting on a stool in front of a drape with the seal of the State of Pennsylvania on it. An incredibly bored looking older black man tells me to look at the sign over his left shoulder as he snaps a photo of me. Finally we're told to wait in some of the most uncomfortable orange molded plastic chairs.

By this point it's starting to get rather late in the day and the numbers of other people milling around in the DMV are starting to thin out. Brian hasn't said much through this whole process. But he's here with me, waiting in the lines, holding my hand even in the face of all these disapproving hetero types, supporting me the whole time with his mere presence. I can't believe how insanely lucky I am to have found this amazing man.

"Taylor," hollers the bored black man from his little window, finally tearing me away from my adulation of Brian Kinney.

At the counter, the man desultorily hands me a small rectangular piece of plastic. When I look down at it, I see my own face smiling back. It's me. I'm official.

"So, Pinocchio, how does it feel to be a real boy again?" Brian teases me as I skip over to him and shove my new ID into his face.

"Pinocchio, huh? That means you're the Good Fairy who made it all possible with your magic," I tease him, unable to control the smile that keeps breaking out on my face or the glee that bubbles up from inside.

"Oh, I'm good, alright. I'll show you just how good, too, as soon as I get you somewhere that I can have my way with you," Brian threatens with his own grin that's almost as big as mine, pulling me in for a breathless kiss as soon as we clear the front doors of the DMV office.

"You can have your way with me right here, Mr. Kinney," I tell him as soon as I'm allowed to pull away enough to gasp a lungful of air. "I'm yours - wherever and whenever you want me, Brian. You made me alive again. I'm yours forever."

"Don't tempt me, Sunshine," Brian says as his hands creep lower down my ass. "The things I'd like to do to you right now would make all these breeders' heads explode. But think of the mess that would make. It wouldn't be fair to the poor maintenance workers who'd have to clean the brains off the DMV ceiling. Why don't I take you home first and then have my way with you there."

"What if I can't wait that long?"

"Horny little puppet boy, aren't you," Brian continues to tease me, his lips grazing the side of my neck provocatively as he gropes at my ass with both hands.

I only grunt out an inarticulate reply as I latch onto his lips for another sweet taste of my Brian. "Take me home, Brian," I moan into him right before his tongue finds its way into my willingly open mouth.

Thats when it strikes me - I just called the loft my 'home'. And it was true, it was really a home. It wasn't just a word anymore - a concept that I understood in the abstract but which didn't apply to me. I felt it, finally. I felt like I had a home. My home was with Brian. Wherever Brian was I felt happy and protected and warm. And, I even felt like I had a family now - I had Brian and Gus and Debbie and the gang. I felt like part of a family and I had a HOME.

I guess I was finally a real boy after all.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

We're standing in front of the DMV making out like two horny teens. I have my tongue down Justin's throat and my hands on his ass. And, if I weren't standing on a street corner in broad daylight, I'd be ripping his clothing off right about now.

How does he do this to me? He can make me lose my cool with just a look. This is just NOT like me. Not that I'm really complaining. I'm just not sure what's happening to me lately is all. Justin gets to me in ways no other man ever has. It's when the kiss starts to get uncharacteristically wet, that this fact is really driven home.

I reach up with one hand to cup his face so I can pull him even deeper into the kiss and I feel the moisture on his skin. I pull back and I can see that he's crying. Streams of tears are leaking down his beautiful pale cheeks but somehow his eyes are twinkling and happy at the same time.

And that's when I realize exactly how much I've changed. I'm not disgusted by Justin's tears. I'm not annoyed by the snivelly mess he's making. I'm not turned off by the sight of so much emotion. All those responses would have been automatic if this was any man other than Justin. Instead, I feel this surge of concern and warmth and . . . something else I'm not sure how to define.

If any other man started to cry while I was kissing him, I would simply walk away in utter disgust and never look back.

"Justin?" I ask my blond, tenderly stroking away the tears instead. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Brian. I'm just . . . just so happy!" he says and breaks out into true sobs, clinging to me for support as if he can no longer stand on his own.

And even this doesn't seem to phase me. I just gather him into a closer embrace and hold him while he cries. I'm comforting him, rubbing his back in small circles and leaving small kisses in his hair. In public. In broad daylight. ME. Brian Kinney. And I'm not in the least bit ashamed or turned off by this. I'm a little freaked out by the fact that this isn't freaking me out, but I'm not in the least bit tempted to run away. Like I said - Justin has changed me somehow and I almost think its for the better.

It doesn't take him long to pull himself back together, though. A couple more sobs, a sniffle and he's back in control of himself. He wipes his face on his sleeve, like a little boy, and I catch myself thinking how charming that gesture is. But I'm only totally fucked when he glows up at me in sheer adoration and directs that huge sunshine bright smile at me. That's when I know how completely hooked I truly am.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian's been unusually quiet since my little crying jag at the DMV. The entire drive home - yes, 'home' - he hasn't said more than a dozen words. At first I was worried that I'd done something to piss him off. But I don't think so anymore. He wouldn't be looking at me with THAT look if he was angry. That's the look that says I'm going to be getting lucky very soon. But, still, he's being kinda quiet for Brian.

As we pull into the parking garage at the loft, I'm still sitting there with my new ID in my hands, staring in wonder at this miracle. I realize I'm probably making too much out of this - its just a fucking piece of plastic with a picture and some words on it - but I still can't get over how happy it makes me feel to have this little piece of plastic. Except for my old school ID, this is the first time anyone's ever admitted I existed.

"I need to run upstairs for something, Sunshine," Brian says, breaking me out of my revery over my new ID. "Can you slide over here into the drivers seat while I'm gone. I'll be right back."

Okay. That's weird. Why does Brian want me to get into the drivers seat? This isn't a driver's license, just an ID. Although, now that I start to think about it, maybe that could be next. An actual driver's license? I think I can even maybe do that. Will wonders never cease? But, I scoot over to the other seat anyway while I’m thinking on all the possibilities that once seemed impossible.

I’m daydreaming about driving Brian’s Corvette really fast on some big interstate highway when I’m distracted by a *tap tap* on the driver’s side window. I look up and see Brian. He’s changed into a navy blue ‘uniform’ looking shirt and he’s wearing a costume police cap and dark black aviator glasses. The tapping noise is coming from what looks like a policeman’s nightstick that he’s knocking lightly against the glass. I roll down the window, wondering if somehow I missed something.

“Brian? What . . . ?” I start to ask, but he’s all business and not going to let me interrupt.

“That’s Office Kinney, Sir,” Brian says in a deep sexy voice, looking seductively over the tops of his aviators which he’s pulled down enough so I can see him wink at me. “I’m going to have to ask to see some ID, Sir. I have a report that this vehicle is stolen. And, we can’t have naughty young men running around in cars that don’t belong to they, now can we?”

“Good thing I have ID to show you, isn’t it officer,” I say with a huge grin as I hand him out my brand, spanking new ID card.

“Hmmm,” says Officer Kinney as he peruses my ID card as he slides the nightstick into his belt. “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a discrepancy, here Mr. Taylor. I’m going to have to ask you to step out of your vehicle, Sir.”

I quickly open the car door and step out of the car. Officer Kinney shoves me back against the vehicle as soon as I start to step away, though. He’s still looking over the ID with this sexy smirk thing going on his countenance. He’s clearly not done with his little fantasy.

“Mr. Taylor, are you sure this is YOUR ID? Hmmmm? There appear to be a few discrepancies here. I’m not satisfied with this, I’m afraid.”

“Of course, it’s me, Officer,” I instantly confirm, looking over the edge of the ID where he’s holding it so I can look and make sure once again that it’s really mine. 

“It lists your weight here as 146 pounds. But, that couldn’t possibly be correct. You’re way too skinny to be almost 150 pounds yet. Maybe after a few more months of feeding you up, but now? I don’t think that’s possible,” Brian says, trying to be as serious as he can. “I’d better check this out, I think. Now, turn around and put your hands on the top of the vehicle, please, Sir.”

I do as I’m told - I don’t want to get in trouble with the authorities - but I’m having trouble being as serious as the arresting officer and the occasional giggle escapes as I put my hands on the top of the car and shake my ass. Officer Kinney starts off his search by running his hands down the outsides of my hips and legs and then back up the insides of my thighs. When he cups my balls from underneath, I can’t keep back the moan. He spends a little time fondling me through my jeans, but apparently isn’t satisfied with his investigation.

“I think I’m going to have to perform a full strip-search, Sir,” Officer Kinney says, leaning against me and pressing my crotch against the door frame of the car in the process, his own erection grinding into my lower back at the same time. "And, there will definitely be some body cavities involved, Mr. Taylor."

“Well, if you’re sure that’s necessary,” I say willingly.

“It’s definitely necessary, Sir. Spread ‘em," he orders, kicking my legs wider as he reaches around to deftly unbutton my jeans with only one hand. 

He might be right about my weight after all - as soon as my jeans are undone, they pretty much fall right off with only a wiggle or two from me. Luckily, Brian's parking spaces are divided from those of the other tenants by walls on each side, so I'm not completely visible by any of the neighbors should they decide to visit their own vehicles. Which is good, because I don't want to have Officer Kinney feel it's necessary to come down hard on me for indecent exposure, as well. I'm pretty sure he's already hard enough.

"Freeze," Officer Kinney whispers into my ear, as he grabs both my wrists into one large hand and pulls them up higher onto the roof of the Vette. "Now, I'm going to tell you your rights. You have the right to get fucked by me to within an inch of your life. You have the right to moan and whimper to the fullest extent possible. If you choose not to moan, I'm gonna keep pounding your ass until you do. And, anything you do say in the throes of passion will be held against you until I get you alone upstairs in our bed. Then, I'm going to finish up there, whatever we don't manage to do here. Do you understand your rights, Mr. Taylor?"

"Oh, yes. You're coming across very clear, Officer. Only, can I just go ahead and start with the moaning now, Sir?"

I hear the sound of a condom package ripping open before Officer Kinney answers. "Go right ahead, Taylor. You deserve a bit of a head start. Don't worry, though," he says, as I feel a fingertip of cold lube being trailed down my crack, "I'm gonna catch up real quickly."

"Unghhh," is about all I manage, though, as two well lubed fingers get shoved rapidly into me. "Hey, does this count as police brutality?"

"I think of it more as a 'service' I'm providing to my community," Brian jokes back. "Now quiet, Taylor. The only noises I wanna hear coming out of you are demands for more fucking. And, if you're a good little prisoner, I'll let you take a turn with my nightstick later."

That's the last joke he manages. Or at least its the last joke I hear, because after that, all I'm aware of for the next, however-many-minutes, is the monster dick that he's shoving up my ass. I just concentrate on my moaning, as I was directed, as he repeatedly rams me hard and fast against the side of the car.

Officer Kinney is very efficient. He manages to find just the perfect angle to hit my sweet spot dead on right from the start. It makes my task of moaning and whimpering much easier. This is really not going to take very long at all at this rate. In fact, just as I think that, the kind officer reaches around and grabs tightly onto my dick, pumping it masterfully several times in rhythm with his thrusting.

Thats all it takes before my balls start to contract and I find myself shooting thick streams of cum all over the side of the Vette. If it weren't for the fact that I'm still impaled by this steel rod up my ass, I'm pretty sure I would collapse into the puddle of cum on the garage floor at this point. Brian is still going though. He's practically on fucking fire, driving into me over and over, seemingly unable to get enough. So I just hold on to the roof of the car and hope that my ass will hold out longer than he does.

"Justin, I want you so fucking bad," he's saying, as if I weren't there. "I want you. I'm never going to get enough of you. Ever. Fuck, Justin. FUCK!"

He finally comes, harder than I've ever seen. By the time he's through, Brian is leaning against me, panting loudly, his body shaking and his legs clearly almost as unsteady as my own. The only body parts of either of us that still seem to function are our lips, so I turn my head to the side enough to reach his mouth and kiss him gently until his breathing steadies along with mine.

"Justin, that was . . . It was so fucking amazing that there are no words to describe it," Brian says, telling his words softly into the skin of my neck, when he eventually catches his breath. "You are so absolutely perfect. I can't believe how willing you always are and how . . . just fucking perfect you are. You are amazing, Justin."

Maybe the parking garage under the building, when my pants are bunched around my ankles and dribbled with cum, isn't the most romantic locale I could picture, but right then I don't really notice. I have Brian. I can feel and hear how much I mean to him. And I want this moment to go on forever.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

After our little fantasy play in the garage, I somehow get Justin upstairs and get both of us into the shower. If we hadn't been out in the open, leaning against the side of my car, I think I might have fallen asleep after that incredible fuck. I haven't cum that hard in . . . well, I'm not sure how long it's been. I definitely feel like a short rest wouldn't be out of place. But, I still have other plans for the boy tonight. So, rest will have to wait for now.

In addition to feeling a bit tired and well-fucked, I'm also feeling . . . dazed, astonished, impressed, unguarded, devoted, open, affected, emotional, and aroused all at the same time. That was such an incredible fuck. And I didnt just say those things to Justin afterwards to boost his ego. I'm truly, sincerely, amazed at what this man does to me and how he makes me feel. Actually, the mere fact that I'm feeling all these things and not freaked out by it, is in itself pretty amazing, since, in the past, I rarely felt anything at all for the men I was with. Except, sometimes, annoyance when they stuck around too long.

But, it's Justin. He's so much more than those other men. I'll never get enough of that perfect, willing body. Or, that pure heart. Or the way he seems to need me as much as I feel like I need to be with him. Never enough.

I'm not much for talking, even though we still do our own little 'therapy'  
sessions every couple of nights. It helps Justin to work through all the anger and pain he's dealing with, even now after he's managed to confront his father. Oddly enough, it seems to sort of be helping me, too - I've told Justin more about my own childhood than anyone else in my life and telling those stories has eased a bit of my own anger. But, even with all that practice I've been getting at talking about things - even about feelings - I'm still not that comfortable with saying what I'd like to tell Justin right now. Instead, I think I'll show him and hopefully he'll see for himself what I'm not able to say yet.

I therefore hurry a little through the shower and rush out before the hot water has a chance to sap any of my remaining energy or resolve. When Justin finishes, I'm seated on the bed, facing the bathroom doorway, with a small gift wrapped box sitting on a pillow in front of me. I'm really glad how good Justin is getting at handling surprises - three in one day (well, four if you count the visit from Officer Kinney) would have broken him a few weeks ago. But, I'm glad he's still okay, because I'm hoping that this one will be the best surprise yet.

"Brian? What's this? Hasn't my Good Fairy been busy enough today already?" Justin asks as he nears the bed cautiously, seemingly convinced the box contains some venomous creature.

"I promise this is my last surprise of the day, Sunshine. And, it's a small one. But it goes with the theme of the afternoon, so you have to open it now. Okay?" I try to cajole him into approaching nearer.

Justin finally sits on the edge of the bed, and looks at me as if he hopes to read my mind and thereby discover the nature of this last gift. He tentatively reaches out one unsure hand and traces along the edge of the lid of the box with a delicate finger. The metallic silver wrapping paper crinkles audibly at his touch but gives nothing away. He's going to have to open it.

Lifting the lid off the box, he sees the black leather Louis Vuitton wallet that I got for him. He hesitantly takes it out of the box and turns it over in his hands. When it doesn't bite, he at last looks up at me and smiles.

"It's for your new ID," I tell him, obviously. "Look inside."

On the inside right hand flap, there's the standard window slot for your driver's license or ID. But, it's not empty. There's a small laminated card there already. I can't control the huge grin that's plastered on my face as I watch Justin pull out that little card and read it aloud.  
"In Case of Emergencies:

Emergency Contact: Brian Kinney  
Relationship: Partner  
Phone: 412-555-3214  
Address: . . . . "

"If you keep that with you all the time, Sunshine, then you never need to worry about another incident like what happened at the hospital this week. Someone will always be able to find me and as long as they know to call me, even if my brains are a little scrambled, no one will be able to take you someplace you don't want to be," I quickly explain, pulling my own wallet off the night table and showing him the reciprocal card I had put in there earlier. "I got one for me too. Just in case . . . you know."

Justin reads my card aloud, as well.  
"In Case of Emergencies:

Emergency Contact: Justin Taylor  
Relationship: Partner  
Phone: 412- . . . . . "

I had expected excitement and lots of words or maybe even tears. Justin's never one to do the expected, though. He just quietly hands me back my wallet and takes up his own, pulling the ICE card out of the window slot and putting it back one slot up so his ID can go where it's supposed to. When it's all organized, he folds it up, and just holds it, staring at the rich, soft leather with a hard to read, almost blissful but still sad look.

"Thank you, Brian," Justin says in a subdued voice, not looking away from his treasures. "I love it. This is the best surprise of them all."

I know, then, that he heard all that I was really saying. Justin gets me. He's easy to be with, like that. He hears what I'm saying even when I can't say it. That's why I love him so much.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

Brian gave me a wallet for my new ID. But that wasn't the real present. The real gift was the little ICE card inside. If you read it you might think its just simple emergency contact directions. When I read it, it says that Brian wants to keep me safe and that he wants me around for a long time. It says that he's my 'partner' and that I'm his. But mostly, it says that he loves me.

As I read that card again for the fiftieth time tonight, I feel the final wisps of fear and pain and loneliness that have been smoldering in my heart for so long, burn clear away in the white hot heat of Brian's love. Those feelings are gone now. All I have room for in my heart at this moment is Brian.

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was sickly sweet, don't you think? Too sweet? Oh, well, you'll have to live with it since I've posted it and I won't take it back. All that's left is a short epilogue to wrap up the few loose ends that wouldn't fit in the body of the story - I know if I just leave it here you won't let me rest because you'll all HAVE to know what happens to Craig and Jennifer, etc. Don't worry, I'll get them all wrapped up tighter than a drunk on Christmas Eve for you.   
> Well, I can't believe it - More than 170,000 words and 42 chapters later, I'm finished with another story. It's really amazing. I can't believe I did this. 
> 
> Thanks again to LovelessSouls for the wonderful story concept and the great start. Hope you like how I tried to tie in your first chapter with my last one. It was a great story just waiting to be told! TAG


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks - All wrapped up with a neat little bow. Hope you like it. Thanks to all my devoted readers and my kind, inspiring reviewers/commenters. I wouldn't have done it without your encouragement. Enjoy! TAG

Epilogue.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

"Go, Gus!" Debbie screeches into my ear then sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles so loudly that I'm pretty sure I'm going to have significant, permanent hearing loss on that side. "Go, Panthers!"

Gus' high school soccer team is playing for the state championship in it's division. It's a small private school, but the prestige of making it to the state championships is just as huge, if not more so, than for the big schools. And, we parents and families are just as overwhelmingly proud of our boys.

That probably goes double for our little family cheering squad, since Gus is the youngest player out there. He's the only freshman to start for either team. But, with Brian being his dad, it was only to be expected that he'd be amazingly talented, athletically gifted and gorgeous to boot. And I wasn't just thinking that out of a sense of pride - other parents tell me how talented he is all the time, so it must be true.

All of Gus' family is in complete agreement with my opinion, though, which is likely the reason that we had to buy tickets for almost a whole section of the bleachers just for our group. Everyone is here tonight to support Gus. Our little family isn't so little anymore, either. As I look around at our group, I'm overcome by waves of affection for our rag tag, but close-knit alternative family.

Sitting next to me on the right, next to my now deaf ear, is Debbie, of course. She's well into her sixties now, but amazingly she doesn't look all that different. She's still motherly and robust and she still wears those same bright red-headed wigs so you wouldn't have any idea what her real age was, if she didn't occasionally tell you just to make the point of how much additional respect you should be giving her.

Deb's husband, Carl, is sitting next to her, smiling indulgently at his boisterous and larger-than-life wife. The calm and stoic Carl makes a great foil for Debbie's more explosive personality, and I've gotten almost as close to him over the years as I am to Debbie. Carl's the closest thing I'll ever have to a real father. I smile around Debbie's bulk at Carl just to let him know I empathize with his attempts to rein in his wife's enthusiasm as he tries to stop her from jumping up and down in place and shaking the entire bleachers in the process.

The person who should be in the next seat, Uncle Vic, isn't there. He died from complications related to AIDS about a year after I met Brian. He was a remarkable man. I know Brian felt about Vic the way I feel about Carl - we both needed surrogate fathers and we each luckily found the perfect candidates thanks to Debbie. And, even though Vic isn't here tonight, he's still part of this family and still here in spirit at least.

Instead, next to Carl is my mother, Jennifer. Now Jennifer Rollins - her 'new' husband Tucker is sitting next to her holding my little half-sister, Molly. Okay, I guess it's time for me to stop thinking of Tucker as mom's 'new' husband since they've been married almost eight years by now. I really still haven't quite resolved all my issues with my mother, even after all this time, and that's made it even tougher to warm up to Tucker, which is probably why I still think of him as 'new'.

But, it's time to let go of that little crutch, according to my therapist. Yes, I'm still in therapy, even after all these years. And no, my therapy isn't still done sitting naked in Brian's arms on our bed. I will probably never really recover completely from the twenty years of abuse I suffered at the hands of Craig Taylor, but I keep fighting all the time. And having a professional to talk to about it isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Even if it did take Brian and Ben almost a full year to get me to go see a psychologist, I'm glad I finally did it. Ben was a great help that first year I was with Brian - he did research for us, helped with finding me resources to contact to help with some of my scarier PTSD symptoms, and was ultimately responsible for connecting me with the therapist I'm still seeing today. Next to Brian, and of course Daphne, Ben is probably the best friend I have.

Ben and Michael and Daphne and her husband, Morgan, are all actually here today, too. They got dragged here by Debbie, of course, along with Ted and Emmett. The proud grandmother wasn't going to let any of her clan off the hook today. Supporting Gus, and by extension Gus' soccer team, wasn't optional. Everyone showed up on time as directed by our dear matriarch - although, I'm pretty sure that they would have all come regardless. I've never yet seen a biological family that's closer or more devoted to each other than our alternative family.

Which of course includes Gus' mothers, Lindsey and Mel, who are seated behind me along with their daughter, JR. Gus' little sister is just as proud of the big brother she practically worships - when he's not needling her relentlessly as all big brothers are wont to do - as her mothers. She's rooting and cheering for the team almost as loudly as Debbie. She does have those loud-mouthed Novotny genes, though, so why am I surprised if she can match her father and grandmother in the upper decibel ranges? I may lose some hearing in my other ear if JR keeps up her whooping cheers.

But the center of the whole family, not to mention the center of my own personal universe, is clearly the devilishly handsome man sitting on my left - Brian Kinney. He looks unbelievably chic today in his tight black Armani jeans, a deep wine-red cashmere turtleneck and his black Hugo Boss leather jacket. Compared to the other breeder parents sitting around us, clad in faded, torn cotton tees and fleece jackets, he looks like a god. In fact, I'm reasonably sure it's illegal to look that fucking sexy after you're forty, especially when all you're doing is sitting on a bench watching your kid play soccer. But, that's Brian for you.

I'm so distracted by watching Brian that I forget for a few moments to watch the game. Which is why I'm startled when Brian jumps to his feet beside me. He's clapping wildly and whooping along with all the rest of the Panthers' fans.

"Goalllllll!" yells the announcer over the PA system. "That puts the game on the board, finally, folks. One-zero, to the Panthers. The first goal being scored by forward Scott Zacchert, with a perfectly executed assist from the team's youngest forward, Gus Kinney."

"Did you see that?" Brian is gushing over Gus' feat of skill. "That was the perfect set up. God, the kid is amazing. He's got skills I didn't master till I was in college. By the time he's a senior, he'll be unstoppable."

I'm more impressed with Brian's unbridled enthusiasm right now than I am with his son's soccer skills. Brian pulls me into a tight hug as he speaks and kisses me with all the excitement he's feeling. And, even after all this time, that simple gesture is enough to set my blood on fire for him.

This beautiful, caring man is all I'll ever need because he still gives me everything I look for in a man. He's good looking - well, that's a gross understatement, but it's essentially true. He's also the kindest, most caring parent I've ever seen. Brian would do anything for Gus. He's there for the boy to talk to, he supports him financially and emotionally and he still manages to somehow instill all those great moral values in his son - discipline, respect, honor, fairness - that other parents seem to struggle with. On top of everything, he's also the most devoted and passionate partner anyone could ask for in a lover.

Even after more than ten years, he's still the only man I have room for in my heart.

~~*~~  
Brian's POV  
~~*~~

Gus' team comes screaming off the field, both Gus and his friend Scott being held aloft on their teammates shoulders in triumph. The Panthers have just won the state Division IV Boys Soccer Championship! With the winning goal, scored in the last two minutes of the game, by none other than MY son, Gus Kinney.

I'm not sure who's more excited by this win, though - the team on the field, or the team of parents and families in the stands. Especially Gus' own clan, who are all jumping around, hugging each other and even, in the case of Debbie and Emmett, crying. I might even admit to a certain amount of jumping, hooting and clapping myself. I'm just so proud of the kid. He's worked incredibly hard this year and it's all paid off beautifully for him. I couldn't be happier for him.

"Dad! Dad, did you see my goal? Did you see?" a sweaty, dirt smeared and elated Gus comes barreling into my arms.

"You were perfect, Sonny Boy. I'm so proud! Congratulations." I manage to say before we're swamped with throngs of other well-wishers.

Since I know I'll get more time with Gus later, I back off and let him get his kudos from all the others who want his attention right now. Besides, I enjoy watching him being adored by others. But, all those cheerleaders? Them, I'm not sure about.

"Hey, Dad. What do you think about your kid, now?" Lindz asks as she sidles up to stand next to me.

"I think exactly what I've always thought from the first moment I saw him. He's perfect!"

"How'd we manage that?" Lindsey voices my own doubts as if she's reading my mind.

"I have no fucking idea, Mom," I admit. "But, we obviously did something right."

"Take that, all you hetero doubters!" Mel adds as she joins our conversation. "Proof positive that gay parents aren't just as good as straight parents - we're better. Our kid is practically perfect!"

"Just so long as you don't turn him into Mary Poppins," Carl, the former homophobe, joins in with his own wry little joke.

"From the way he's ogling those cheerleaders, I don't think so," Ben comments as he helps Michael down out of the stands.

"I don't know, Sweetie. I saw Gussy swat that dreamy teammate of his, Scott, on the ass earlier. So, there's still hope, right?" Emmett puts in his two cents, accompanied by the wishful nods of Ted and Michael.

"Stop! All of you," Lindsey admonishes us. "Gus has plenty of time to decide all that later. Don't all of you go pushing him into something he's not ready for."

That's when I decide to end the argument before it gets more heated.

"Hey everybody. You're all invited back to Britin for a celebratory barbeque. You guys can go ahead and get started on the party, and Justin and I will wait here and round up Gus."

That distracts them all, and the group starts to disburse with murmurs of "Thanks, Bri", the pressing issue of my son's sexuality forgotten for the moment. A light tap on my forearm draws my attention away from my departing friends and focuses it back on my hovering blond companion. Justin is looking at me and shaking his head, clearly unsure about how my spontaneity is going to go over with our housekeeper.

"Don't worry, Sunshine. I'll call ahead and give Butterfingers a heads up," I tell him, referring to our housekeeper, who just happens to be the same clutzy nutrition staff worker who we first met when we were in the hospital together all those years ago - she coincidentally applied for the job and we'd hired her on the spot when we all recognized each other and had a good laugh at the memory. "She can get them started on some drinks and salads or whatever while we're waiting to get Gus. And if she needs anything, she can call the market and have it delivered. It'll be fine."

"You know that Matilda doesn't like surprises, Brian," Justin tells me, subtly reminding me at the same time that she hates when I call her Butterfingers.

"I eventually trained you not to mind surprises, didn't I Sunshine? I'll get Butterfingers acclimated to them as well. Just give it time."

"I don't think that she'll be quite as understanding, Brian. You can't just fuck her when she gets annoyed at you, the way you 'trained' me," Justin smiles up at me, giving me one of those reprimanding looks at my reference to trying to 'train' him, but laughing at the same time.

"Yes, dear," I respond obediently, earning myself a swat on my ass from the unamused blond just as Gus approaches with one arm around his friend, Scott, and the other around a tall brunette girl who I don't recognize.

"Don't mind my dads," Gus advises his companions. "They do sometimes have issues with maintaining appropriate behavior in public, but they'll behave if I tell them to."

"Smartass!" is my only reply, but I wrap my arms around Justin at the same time, not about to back off just because my son's friends may not approve of my lifestyle. "So, how long till you're ready to go, Sonny Boy? I invited the family back to the house for a party in your honor. So you better get a move on it."

"I was going to grab a quick shower before I leave, I stink. But, Dad, is it okay if Scott and Tabitha come to the party, too? We were all going to go out, but I'm sure they'll manage to enjoy themselves at Britin once they discover the pool, the hot tub and the free steaks. Right, guys?"

"Hell yes! You had me at free food," Scott pipes up right away.

"Sounds great," the brunette, Tabitha. agrees.

"Right. You two go get showered, then, and I'll call Butter. . . I mean Mathilda, and let her know we're all on the way," I tell Gus' already retreating back, as I pull out my cell phone.

Thirty minutes later, we're all piled into Justin's SUV, with the boys' gear in the back, somehow wedged between a stack of new canvasses and several boxes of art supplies he always seems to be carrying around. I'm not sure exactly why Justin needs to tote all that stuff around all the time - he has his own studio at home as well as the one at Kinnetik - but he tells me it's just 'in case', so I don't argue. I only know that a paint splattered Justin is a happy Justin, so I gladly let him carry the necessary painting supplies around wherever he wants as long as he's happy.

I sneak a glance over at him sitting in the passenger's seat while I drive. He has that special sunshine grin on, so I know he's thinking about something good. He looks up at me an instant later, somehow managing to increase the brilliance of his smile. Fuck, I really can't get over how beautiful he is, even all these years later. How does he manage that? Its got to be the smile that blinds you to all his other flaws, right? That's assuming he has flaws, I'm always too distracted by that smile, or by his still smoking hot ass, to ever notice.

Justin reaches out and grabs my free hand while I drive. Now we're both smiling like infatuated teenagers, much to the amusement of the actual teens in the back seat, a couple of whom apparently noticed the hand-holding adults in the front. Might as well give 'em a show, I figure, so I pull Justin's hand to my lips and leave a tiny kiss on the back, waggling my eyebrows at him suggestively at the same time. That gets me a titter of delight from our audience in the rear, follows by an adamant shushing.

My antics are interrupted though by my cell phone ringing right then. I toss it to Justin to answer while I continue to drive.

"That was Ted," Justin informs me as he hangs up. "Apparently we're dangerously low on scotch and vodka. The market won't deliver liquor, so we'll have to stop on the way home. Sorry. The party sounds like its going well, though. I could barely hear Ted over the music."

"Just so long as someone's having a good time. Even if it isn't me," I say, pulling into the exit lane on the highway just in time.

"Sorry for the delay, guys," I tell the teen contingent as I pull up to the closest liquor store and park. "I'll be as quick as I can. Do you guys want me to get you some sodas while I'm in there? There's plenty back at the house, but I can get you all something for the ride."

I grab their drink orders and dash into the store. I've loaded up a shopping basket with a good selection of what I think we'll need and I'm already in the checkout line when the door opens and Gus darts inside. I know from his expression that something's not good, so I drop it all and run to meet him without waiting to be told what's wrong.

"What is it, Gus?"

"It's Justin. He . . . Just come see for yourself, dad," Gus is tugging at my sleeve, leading me away from where the car's parked and around the corner of the building.

Gus' friends are standing in the alleyway, looking down towards something on the ground, which is partially hidden by a dumpster. Shit. I already know what this is, but it's worse because I wasn't expecting it. It's been years since Justin's had a panic attack like this. I thought we were over this. Apparently not, though.

"Justin? It's okay. I'm here," I say as I kneel down in front of where he's huddling next to the dumpster. "What happened, Sunshine?"

"We were all just waiting in the car, you know," Gus starts to explain as I try to get closer to Justin without scaring him further. "Then this creepy old guy comes up and knocks on Justin's window. I thought he was just gonna beg for some money, but he sort of pointed at Justin and then signed to follow him. I don't know why, but Justin got out of the car and followed him around here. When he didn't come right back, we came and found him like this."

"Where's the guy?" I immediately ask, wanting to know where the threat was so I could face it head on.

"I don't know. He was gone when we got here."

"Justin? Come on, Sunshine. It's okay. He's gone. I'm here," I say, as I finally succeed in getting him up off the ground and into my arms.

"It's not okay, Brian," I hear him whisper in a small, scared voice. "It was him. It was Craig. He found me, again, Brian."

"Fuck!" that fact makes me even more frightened for Justin than I was before. "Don't worry, Sunshine. He's gone. He can't hurt you. I'm here."

"But he took it all, Brian," Justin's sobbing now, which is, believe it or not, a good thing, since he's talking and crying instead of just sitting there catatonic.

"What did he take, Justin? Whatever it is, it's no big deal. Really. As long as he's gone and you're okay."

"He took my wallet, Brian. I was going to give him money, you know. He looked old and bad and I was going to just give him some money, but then he shoved me against the wall and took the whole wallet."

"It's okay. It's just money."

"No. It's not. He took it all. He took my ID. He took my . . ." I'm not sure Justin's going to finish, he's sobbing so hard at this point, but he swallows and clears his throat and then tries again. "He took my ID and my ICE card, Brian. I'm sorry. It just . . . it threw me."

"Fucker!" I'm irate now. It's bad enough that Justin had to deal with Craig like this, alone and completely unprepared, but this was too much. For Craig to take those things - it was unthinkable that I'd let him get away with that. He had almost quashed Justin's identity once and had used his position as a parent to cause Justin serious pain. He wasn't going to do it again, even symbolically.

I get Justin back to the car and into the passenger's seat. Gus and his friends are trailing along, unsure, behind. I'm hoping that Gus is going to be okay with all this because I don't have time to deal with him too.

"Which way did he go, Sunshine?" I ask and then nod as he points down the alley and then south. "Gus, you guys stay here. Make sure Justin's okay. Don't go anywhere till I get back, unless Craig comes back. If he does, I want you to all run inside the store and tell someone to call the police. Do you understand?"

Gus squares his shoulders, stands up straighter and nods. If I had time, that little gesture would have made me smile. But, instead I just quickly kiss Justin and then start to run down the alley.

"Brian, be careful," Justin calls out as I turn the corner at the end of the alley.

Luckily, the asswipe didn't get far. I'm not more than two or three blocks away before I see a movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to see an old man in a dirty grey jacket slinking around the corner of a nearby building. I storm after him and see him pull a piece of cardboard across the opening of a makeshift shelter at the end of the alley.

The cretin seems shocked when I kick aside his cardboard door and let myself in. He's still got Justin's wallet in his grubby hands. He's looking up at me with utter terror on his countenance. He's aged a lot since the last time I saw him - and he hasn't aged well, either. His skin is sallow and dry looking. His hair, which was once almost as bright blond as Justin's is grey and long and dingy. He's missing a lot of teeth and he's got a large open sore on the side of his neck. I know I should probably feel some sympathy or guilt looking at the heap of shit that this man has become, but honestly, all I feel is contempt.

I start to grab for the wallet but Craig finally comes to life and half-heartedly bats away my hand. That, unfortunately for him, was the wrong response. Craig's little swipe at me brings to mind another time he hit me. Only, this time I'm not in a hospital recovering from a car collision and I'm not suffering from a concussion. And, he's not going to take me by surprise either. I'm ready this time and I'm going to show him just how much a sucker punch like the one he gave me all those years ago hurts.

I haul off and land a good solid jab directly to Craig's left eye. My hand hurts like hell when I'm done, which tells me his face must hurt equally, if not more so. It also accomplishes my purpose, since he instantly drops the wallet and covers as far away from me as he can get in the tight little space. I snatch up the wallet and start to leave, but I just have to get in the last word, so I stop and turn to give Craig Taylor my final ultimatum.

"Don't you ever dare come anywhere near Justin ever again, you fucking loser," I threaten.

"Or what," he laughs at me - not the response I was expecting. "What'll you do to me, huh? You've already taken everything I ever had. I lost my house, my business, my family, my freedom, everything. I spent eight years in two different prisons because of you, Kinney. Not only did you corrupt my first wife and my son, but my second wife divorced me too while I was in jail. There's nothing left you can do to me short of killing me. So, if that's what you want to do, go right ahead. It would be a lot better than living in this hell you've driven me to."

I look around, then, and realize he's right. There's nothing more that anyone can do to him that's worse than what he's already living through. Theres only one point he's wrong about.

"I didn't do this to you, Craig," I tell him as I pull the cash out of my wallet and add it to what was already in Justin's, tossing it all at my feet. "You did all this to yourself. You are the lowest of the low and you always have been. Anyone who could do the horrible things you did to your son and your wife deserves this. You just finally sank to where you belonged all along. If I helped in any way to put you here, I consider that community service. Goodbye, Craig."

My last glimpse of Craig Taylor is of the man scrambling on his hands and knees to catch all the bills I threw at him before they blow away.

~~*~~  
Justin's POV  
~~*~~

I've pretty much managed to pull myself back together by the time Brian returns. I'm embarrassed that I had an episode like that in front f Gus and his friends. It's been years since that's happened to me. I think it was the surprise of seeing Craig that did me in. I had started to deal with him just fine until the wallet thing. But, I guess what my therapist tells me is true - PTSD is not really something you're ever 'cured' of. You get better at dealing with the triggers, but you never get over some things completely.

Brian isn’t gone very long, thankfully. I had my doubts about letting him go after Craig, but he had that look and I knew I couldn't have stopped him. But, that doesn't mean I was comfortable with his choice to go haring off after the creep. We'd talk about it later though.

"Better?" is all he asks when he does return, dropping my wallet on the floorboard of the car as he gathers me into his strong arms.

"Yes. I'm better. I'm sorry, Brian. I just wasn't prepared to see him and when he . . ." I start to explain, but Brian predictably stops me before I get far in my apology.

"Sorry is bullshit, Sunshine. Besides, you don't need to apologize or explain anything. That bastard should have known better. As long as you're okay. We'll get home and kick everyone out and then . . . "

"No! I'll be fine, Brian. I don't want to ruin the party for everyone. Especially for Gus and his friends," I demand, trying to assuage the concern I still see in his eyes. "Really, Brian. Just get the liquor and let's get out of here. I'm fine."

And, really, I am fine as soon as I pick up my wallet and see that my ID and my ICE card are still there. I know it's overly sentimental drivel, but those two little pieces of plastic mean so much to me that losing them would be a real blow. One of them proves to me that I'm a real person, someone who matters in the world and who has a place. The other proves to me how much I mean to the most important person in my world.

I've had a lot of different wallets over the years, and I've even got the ID replaced a couple times. But that little laminated ICE card is still the same one I've had since the first night Brian gave it to me. That one little item means more to me than everything else I own in the world. I don't care that the phone numbers and address on the card are out of date. That's not really the point to the card anymore - in fact, it never was.

When we finally make it back to the house, we're greeted as if we've been gone months, not a mere hour or so. Everyone has to congratulate Gus and Scott again and then the party restarts full tilt. Brian deposits me in a chair by the pool and then proceeds to play host to the happy masses.

I must not be hiding my tension from meeting Craig very well, or maybe Brian's incessant hovering around me gives away that I'm upset, because as soon as they've all taken time to speak to Gus, it seems like everyone wants to come spend time with me. Brian knows me, though, and he's well aware that after one of my episodes, I don't really do crowds well, so he's playing gatekeeper and pretty effectively keeping my visitors down to one or two at a time.

The rules don't apply to Daphne, though. My best friend pushes her way through Brian's attempted defenses, giving him a scathing look as if to say, 'don't even try it, Brian'. He just shrugs and cedes his role as guardian to the unstoppable little brunette, who plops down in the seat next to me.

"A crate of medical supplies, a tool box full of tools and a Satellite phone," Daphne says with a grin. "Beat that!"

"Since when does a 'crate full' of anything count as one item?" I ask. "Plus, sat phones didn't exist back when Gilligan's Island was on television. I mean, what fun would the show have been if they could have just called up for help as soon as the boat landed. That's just cheating."

"Fine. I'll rethink it," she gives in too easily, which is a sure sign that she knows something's up. "So, what gives? You were in a much better mood earlier. Plus, Brian's acting like a big old mother hen, not to mention he's got his hand all wrapped up in a dish towel full of ice. What happened, Jus?"

"We saw Craig at the liquor store on the way home," I tell her right out, giving her the condensed version. "He tried to steal my wallet and Brian got it back. I don't know about the hand, but I suspect he hit something."

"Shit. More like Brian hit someone. How dare that asshole show his face? Are you okay, Jus?" Daphne's all concern and worry.

Am I okay? As I look around me at all the people here in my home, my friends and my family, I'm pretty sure that I AM okay. In fact, I'm way better than okay.

It finally strikes me that Craig can't really hurt me anymore. I have everything that anybody could ever want. I have a beautiful home - not just a house, but a home - that I share with my partner who's been with me for more than ten years and who I know cares for me because he's willing to fight all my demons, even my father, for me.

We have a beautiful, talented and intelligent son, Gus, who's joking with Brian right now as the older man works the grill. I have all the rest of these kind, caring people, my family and friends, who all mean so much to me. I know from experience that they would all support me and protect me, almost as fiercely as Brian.

I have my career, based in part on the Arts degree I got using the money we recovered from the sale of Craig's business, and partly on the generosity of Brian, who was willing to give an untried street kid with a little raw talent a job all those years ago. I still work at Kinnetik as Brian's Art Director, even though I spend more of my time delegating work to the other artists than doing my own work these days. But, more and more, my painting career is taking off and we've even discussed my retiring if my next show goes well.

We have financial security. Brian's business sense has always been phenomenal and between Kinnetik and our investments, even without my income from my art, we're set for the rest of our lives. Not bad for a former street hustler who often had no idea whether he'd have enough cash to buy dinner.

So, what can Craig do to me, now? Nothing. That lonely, malnourished and ill boy that passed out on Liberty Avenue and was taken in by a group of kindly misfits, is long gone. The man I am now is so far beyond that boy’s imagination, he couldn’t even conceive that he’d end up where I am now. 

So, let Craig make whatever threats he wants. I’m really, really okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For better or for worse, it's done. I always feel a huge sense of relief when I finish a story, even though I hate writing the endings. I feel like the story is letting go of me finally and I can rest. Until the next story takes me over, that is. See you when I get there. Please remember that hits and comments are the only remuneration we lonely fanfic authors receive so please be generous. I'm amazed and proud and so very thankful to everyone who's read this already. That's one of the things that makes writing fanfic so incredibly fulfilling. But the more feedback I get the more motivated I am to write more. (Yeah - I'm not too proud to beg for comments . . .) Thanks again! TAG


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